The Faithful
by alias of a girl
Summary: A queen for a king, a romance that spans dimensions, and one chance to make a family whole again. An angel must have faith in a lion, even when she doesn't understand. PeterxOC
1. The Fall

**Chapter 1 – The King's Fall**

"For Narnia!"

In reply, the small army roared and surged forward. Their kings, High King Peter and King Edmund, led the charge. It looked, for a moment, like a painting of one glorious battle or another; a massive army rumbling forward like the terror of a tidal wave, and at the point of the wave, two single glittering figures atop two graceful white warhorses, their swords and voices raised to strike fear in the hearts of their enemies.

Across the field, a small and hopelessly outnumbered gathering of Witch supporters wait to break the coming storm. They were clearly disorganized and some were beginning to back away, looking for a way to escape their seemingly inevitable death.

High above, an Eagle wheeled in the warm air rising out of the damp summer forests surrounding the battle. His mistress would be sorely disappointed that she would be missing the fight; it was unlikely that this battle would last long enough for her to arrive, even if she and her brethren galloped as hard as they could. He made a last circle above the field, ready to return to his mistress and deliver the news of the Narnian army's location and assured victory. He turned his keen eyes towards his mistress and her army, hidden some distance away in the trees. A flash of metal caught his eye from within the forest; it was perfectly round -- a signal mirror. He turned for another circle of the battle, and watched with growing horror as the rabble caught in the center of the Narnian army suddenly found leadership and organization, making a sudden strike at a weak point in their surrounding enemies. At the same instant, thousands of secret Witch supporters emerged from the forest.

The Narnian army was suddenly surrounded and vastly outnumbered.

The Eagle dropped in altitude, gaining speed and pushing himself to return to his army in record time. As he dropped below the canopy line, he thought grimly that at least his mistress will be able to display her battle prowess for the Kings. Perhaps so too might her sister need to display her skill in healing.

"Mistress!" the Eagle cried. A young woman turned from speaking to two men and held out her arm. "Mistress Adrianna," the Eagle said, dipping its head quickly, "there is disaster. The Narnians have been ambushed. They will most certainly need our assistance. They are a 10 minutes' hard gallop due east. We must move quickly in order to reach them in time to turn the tide of battle."

Adrianna, motioning to the men standing next to her, muttered, "Mother and Amelia."

The men disappeared into the underbrush, where, a moment later, two more women emerged. The first was much older than Adrianna and looked remarkably like her. Both had the dark skin of one who had spent all their lives outside and dark hair. Both had the blank faces of those who have ceased to see battle as death and now simply calculate the best chances of victory. The other, slightly younger than Adrianna, was the exact opposite: her skin was pale and freckled, her hair was red and curly and her face displayed obvious dismay at the news. This one was a healer, one who saw first hand the pain and suffering caused by battles like these. She, like her mother and sister, searched for any chance at victory, but was constantly aware of the cost of loss of life and this awareness had not left her without scars.

The older woman, Deirdre, looked at the Eagle for confirmation; the Eagle's nod was all she needed.

"Adrianna, gather your hunters. You will lead the first attack wave. Amelia will follow with the angels, and I will follow with a second attack wave." She turned to Amelia. "Your first priority is to find and remove the injured. As angels return with injured soldiers, their guardians should turn their attention to the safety of the kings."

Three frustratingly slow minutes later, Adrianna's first attack wave was gathered. With a single silent signal from their leader, every horseman in the group kicked their steeds into a heavy gallop, moving with surprising grace through the trees and thick undergrowth. At the same time, nearly a hundred birds and Birds leaped from the branches of the trees overhead, some flying ahead to scout the battle, most shadowing their master's movements on the ground below.

Amelia watched from her own horse as the last of her sister's group disappeared into the trees. She closed her eyes, asking Aslan for strength and guidance, and signaled her own group to begin the charge. They would have to move fast to reach the battle in time, and even faster to keep up with Adrianna's hunters.

Amelia let her Horse guide itself through the trees; the mare knew that reaching the Narnian army was urgent, and Farheart was a better forest tracker than perhaps even Amelia. Without warning, the canopy began to break, and ahead, she could see Adrianna's group paused before the final charge. As Amelia approached, she could see Adrianna giving the signal. As one, her hunters let out a mighty cry and surge forward. In the distance, she could see the battle come to a grinding halt as Narnian and Witch supporter alike stopped to stare at this new group, each side wondering to celebrate or despair.

Adrianna's sword speared upwards towards the sky as they broke the last of the trees, and in one great booming voice, the hunters shouted out, "For Narnia!"

Farheart snorted, tossing her head impatiently. She could hear the approach of Deirdre's group far before Amelia could. Amelia took a deep breath and urged to horse forward, drawing her own sword. "Forward, Angels! To the aid of the Narnian Kings!" she cried, pushing Farheart to go faster with each word. She broke into the light of the field as Adrianna smashed into the legion of Witch supporters surrounding the Narnians. King Peter could be seen at the center of the thrall, crying out in triumph as he struck down another enemy. The true battle had begun.

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Peter's thoughts were surprisingly calm as he continued to fight his way through the hopeless battle. He imagined what Susan would say when then returned; she would probably scold him for insisting that she and her archers guard the camp, hadn't she _told _him that he should take some of her archers with him? He refused to entertain the thought that he might not live long enough to see Susan or Lucy again, despite the fact that it seemed to be a very real possibility.

An earth-shattering roar sounded from somewhere to his left. He slashed at the wolf leaping for him, and looked up. His heart sputtered at the sound: was that Aslan, here to save them? As he watched, he saw a single dark-haired woman emerge from the trees, galloping towards them. He wondered then if perhaps Susan had come with her archers, despite his orders. But no, this was not Susan... and the army of wild mounted warriors following her was not the Narnian archers. Peter noted that the sounds of battle around him had almost entirely stopped as everyone stared in shock at the approaching group. They looked like no Children of Adam and Eve that he had ever seen before and it occurred to him that they may be more Witch supporters. He couldn't find it in himself to care: if they were, what was a few hundred more enemies when they were already so severely outnumbered?

"FOR NARNIA!!"

It took Peter a moment to realize that the single, roaring voice was actually the unified shouts of the oncoming army. Hope seized him; now, perhaps, there was a chance! The cry seemed to have inspired the battle to begin again; Narnians were fighting with renewed vigour, the Witch supporters with greater desperation. Barely a moment later, Peter's attention was drawn from the battle and towards the trees as a single voice cried out, though the words were indistinguishable, and another woman, this time a red-haired one, lead yet another army out of the trees and towards the battle. The men and women of the army were clearly of the same people as the first group, though their leader looked markedly different from her brethren, almost Narnian in appearance. If she was a Narnian herself, then these people would certainly fight for the sake of their leader's home. Suddenly victory not only seemed possible, but likely. He could see Edmund, who had at some point fallen from his horse, lift his sword into the air, laughing. Peter let out a whoop, his horse rearing, and cut down a dark dwarf as he was backing away from the stallion's flailing hooves.

As the red-haired woman and her army reached the battle, yet another cry came from the forest. Peter looked up, his face stretching into a grin as his old arrogance returned. An older woman, similar in appearance to the first, led a third army of warriors towards the battle. Peter laughed, raising his sword. It would take a blunder of extraordinary proportions to take this battle from them now. In his jubilance, however, Peter did not notice the enemy sneaking up beside him to take advantage of his momentary distraction, nor Edmund's desperate shout of warning as the spear was drawn back. He simply felt a sudden, blooming pain in his stomach as the spear pierced his armor and drove through his abdomen. He locked eyes with the triumphant hag who watched gleefully as he fell from the saddle.

Edmund fought to reach his fallen brother, but several enemies ensure that he could not. He watched in horror as a Cougar paced around the helpless Peter, thoroughly enjoying the High King's pain.

"Heh. Without four of you on the throne, Queen Jadis will return to take Narnia again. All your work for nothing..." he taunted, breathing in Peter's face. He opened his maw, fitting his teeth around Peter's throat, and fell over sideways with a knife hilt jutting out the side of his neck.

Edmund released a breath he didn't even know he was holding in, and made a new attempt to fight through the enemies blocking his path from his brother.

Farheart stopped, standing with her front legs on one side of the fallen Narnian King, her back legs on the other. It was her duty to provide protection to Amelia and her injured while she worked to heal them. Amelia had barely dismounted when the very hag who had attacked the King fell on her, shrieking "the King must die!"

Amelia spun to face her attacker, drawing both her swords and cutting the clumsily wielded spear cleanly in half, its wielder following in short order. While she may be called an Angel, Amelia had no mercy for her enemies, particularly those who would interrupt her work. She knelt next to Peter's torso, crushing aloe leaves between her hands. She pressed her oil-soaked fingers into the wound as best she could through the armor, but only succeeded in cutting herself on the shredded metal.

"Saleema!" she called, not even looking up from her work. A short woman no older than Amelia and armed to the nines appeared at Amelia's side from seemingly nowhere. "Help me lift him onto Farheart."

Saleema nodded and grabbed Peter by one arm while Amelia took him by the other. Together, they hoisted him to his feet, and then onto Farheart.

Amelia mounted behind him and held him upright with both her arms. "Farheart, back to camp."

Farheart tossed her head and whinnied, setting off at a slow gallop back towards the forest.

Edmund watched Peter disappear into the trees with this mysterious woman. "Stop! Where are you taking him?!" he cried, despite the sheer impossibility of his voice being heard over the noise and distance. A weight collided with him from behind and he stumbled forward a few paces. Turning, he found a dead satyr slump to the ground and Saleema drawing one of her swords out of its chest.

"I'll see to it that you be taken to him once the battle is finished, your Majesty. For now, though, I recommend focusing your full attention on the task at hand, M'lord."

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Peter could remember little of his ride through the forest, or much of being bandaged up. The wound had weakened him, so he slept most of the time. When he was awake, though, he paid little attention to what was around him; he couldn't bring himself to take his eyes off of the angel watching over him.

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_Hehehe... yep! I'm back! I know it's been forever. Anyways, I know this seems like a cliché storyline, but if it gives me any cred, I came up with it before I checked out any of the other Narnia fanfics on FFnet. Anyways, I promise that it will turn out unlike the other stories. Also, just so you all are aware, this is going to be a very long story. So ya, I'm in it for the long haul if you are :)_


	2. The Return

**Chapter 2 – The Return**

When Peter finally woke properly, he found himself in the dark. He was in an extreme amount of pain, but he couldn't let himself make a noise. He fought furiously with his foggy brain, trying desperately to remember what happened after he was struck in the battle. Was he back in the camp? Had the enemy taken him? He wasn't in Cair Paravel; that much was for certain. It felt rather like he was lying on the ground, and if he could remember correctly, his tent in the camp had a hammock. So he was a prisoner then.

Suddenly, Peter was blinded by a momentary light. Then, just as quickly as it had come, the light was gone. A lamp was lit, but Peter's eyes were still dazzled, so all he could see was a lump of color moving across the room and he assumed that this was the creature or person who lit the lamp. He stayed very still, trying to will his breath to come slower, to imitate a sleeping person.

The person folded themselves onto the floor (Peter was sure now that it was a person). He could not tell what they were doing, so he closed his eyes. In a moment, the woman began to sing to herself.

_As I came down through Calavar City  
At the hour of twelve at night  
Who should I see but the Narnian lady  
Washing her feet by candlelight  
First she washed them, then she dried them  
Over a fire of amber coal  
In all my life I ne'er did see  
A maid so sweet about the sole_

Peter, in his attempts to quiet his breath, had been taking shallower breaths than what he'd needed, and could continue no longer: he took a deep breath, and then grunted loudly at the pain of it. The song stopped, and Peter opened his eyes. The woman sitting on the floor was the red haired woman who had led the second wave of mysterious warriors.

She looked up from her work on the floor and smiled.

"Ah, I see you're finally awake, Majesty. I'm Amelia of the Western Tribes," she greeted. Her voice had this unusually lovely accent, though Peter could not place where it might be from. The closest he could think of is the unique accent of the common class in Archenland. She didn't _look_ Archenlander, though.

"That's right, keep from talking too much. It'll hurt you if you try to use your stomach muscles too much," she said approvingly when Peter didn't reply to her greeting. Her face suddenly fell. "Oh, I'm sorry if I woke you with my singing. I can work elsewhere if you need."

"No," Peter croaked, "no, stay."

Amelia smiled. "I'll stay for a while, then, but first I think you might need a drink, and maybe some food. I'll be back in a moment." She paused at the entrance to the tent. "Shall I bring your sisters and brother back with me? They've been worried sick about you, but I won't bring them until you're up to it."

Peter nodded slowly.

Amelia laughed. "You don't look so sure, Majesty."

Too late, though. Lucy heard voices from outside the tent and peeked inside. "Peter! You're awake!" She flew across the tent and straight into Peter's lap, forcing a cry of pain from his throat. Immediately, she tumbled off of Peter and onto the floor. "Oh, no, I'm sorry, how thoughtless..."

Peter let out a hoarse laugh. "It's alright, Lucy. I'm happy to see you, too."

Edmund and Susan had come in at some point during the exchange, and Amelia had disappeared to give the family some privacy during the reunion.

Peter immediately looked up at Edmund, but before he could ask, Edmund lifted a finger.

"Princess Amelia said you shouldn't speak, so don't ask. We won, obviously, and other than the losses from the beginning of the battle, we didn't lose many soldiers. After you fell, the army went into something of a rage, and most of those enemies who laid down arms towards the end were killed in cold blood. Those who I saw doing it have been punished, but I didn't see many." He paused, looking sheepish. "I may have been _very_ lenient with the ones I did catch... I suppose anger out of loyalty to their king isn't the worst offense you can find."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Enough of this depressing talk. Let's talk about something nicer. Like Lady Amelia," she said, turning her bright eyes to Peter.

"What about her?" Peter asked, his raw voice barely above a whisper.

"Didn't she tell you? Queen Deirdre wants an alliance between Narnia and her Western Tribes. They're originally from the Western Woods and the Lantern Waste. Before we arrived in Narnia, they were the only large force resisting the Witch's rule. Tumnus has confirmed that story, so we know for certain that they are on our side. Right now, we're simply ironing out the details of the alliance, and of course, waiting for you to wake up so you can officially agree with Queen Deirdre on the terms. _And_ Lady Amelia is offering to stay at Cair Paravel with us at least until you're better, and she's going to teach me her healing trade!"

Amelia reappeared at the tent door, carrying two bowls: one full of water and the other full of warm broth. "I know it doesn't look like much, but I don't think you'll be able to stomach much more than this for a little while." She sat down on the ground next to him and placed the bowls down next to his head.

Peter tried to reach up to grab one of the bowls, but found Amelia's hand in his own, gently placing it back at his side. "You should move as little as possible, your Majesty." She looked up at Peter's siblings. "I'm sorry, but the High King needs rest now. You can come back later to visit him again, your Majesties."

Susan smiled gratefully. "Of course, Princess. We are very grateful for everything you've done for our brother," she said, leading Edmund and Lucy out, neither of whom looked quite as gracious for having to leave already.

Amelia slipped one hand behind Peter's head and helped him to sit up a little. "Water or soup first?"

"Water," Peter rasped.

Amelia placed the bowl to his lips carefully and let him drink. She removed the bowl for a moment, chuckling. "You need to remember to breath, Majesty."

Peter let his head loll backwards, and Amelia let him lie back down. "What was the song you were singing before?" he asked, his voice clearer now but still strained with pain.

"Narnian Lady. It's an old song from before the Winter. A bird taught it to me once. He said it was written about Queen Helen."

"Seems short to be a love song written for a Queen," Peter noted.

Amelia laughed. "That wasn't all of it. I stopped after the first verse because you woke up." She helped him sit up once more and lifted the soup bowl to his lips.

"Will you sing the rest?" Peter asked when he had finished the soup.

Amelia looked startled. "I, well, sure," she said, blinking owlishly at him.

Peter smiled weakly. "You seem surprised."

"I've just never sung for anyone other than my Angels, and sometimes the rest of the tribes," she admitted, blushing. "Besides, you should sleep."

Peter's smile widened. "Then I might just have to ask you to sing me to sleep."

Amelia smiled back at him. "Alright, alright. If you insist."

_As I came back through Calavar City,  
At the hour of half past eight  
Who should I spy but the Narnian Lady  
Brushing her hair in the broad daylight  
First she tossed it, then she brushed it  
On her lap was a silver comb  
In all my life I ne'er did see  
A maid so fair since I did roam_

__

One for the toora loora laddy  
One for the toora loora lay  
One for the toora loora laddy  
One for the toora loora lay

As I went back through Calavar City  
As the sun began to set  
Who should I spy but the Narnian Lady  
Catching a moth in a golden net  
When she saw me, then she fled me  
Lifting her petticoat over her knee  
In all my life I ne'er did see  
A maid so shy as the Nar'ian Lady

_One for the toora loora laddy  
One for the toora loora lay  
One for the toora loora laddy  
One for the toora loora lay_

Amelia had closed her eyes as she'd been singing, and when she opening them again, she grinned at Peter. "You're not asleep, my King."

Peter blinked at her, surprised. "I thought..." he began, but trailed off when she put a finger to her lips.

"I really do think you should sleep. I wasn't just trying to come up with a reason why I shouldn't sing for you," she answered. "Besides, even though I can see an improvement already, you're starting to wear down on your energy--"

"I'm not--"

"You may not be able to feel it, your Majesty, but I can see it already. You should sleep," she insisted.

Peter sighed with exasperation, and then grunted in pain as his torso expanded with the extra breath.

Amelia smiled sympathetically. "Here, I'll make you something to help with the pain before you go to sleep." She boiled water and made some type of tea with it. It wasn't until Peter caught the scent of it that he realized it was ginger tea. It was a relief; he was expecting some disgusting medicinal mixture.

Once he finished, Amelia doused the lamp and moved towards the door, revealing the late evening light outside. "Sleep well, King Peter."

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Sometime during the night, Peter woke to escape from a nightmare involving some invisible, nameless evil. As he settled down to go back to sleep again, he heard a sound from across the tent.

"Lady Amelia?"

"Oh, good morning, Queen Lucy."

"Please tell me -- and be entirely honest, don't spare me the details -- how Peter is really doing," Lucy asked quietly, her voice suddenly full of anguish.

In the early morning light, Peter could see the silhouette of Amelia as she reached out to touch Lucy's shoulder consolingly. "I promise you, Queen Lucy, he'll be just fine. He's very strong."

"But, wounds to the stomach... aren't they almost always deadly?"

There was a paused, and then Amelia finally conceded, "Yes, they usually are, but the King received medicines to ward off infection and prevent poisoning quickly enough that he survived. He's over that hurdle now; if it was going to be fatal, he would not have survived this long."

Peter saw Lucy take a step forward and take one of Amelia's hands.

"Thank you. If you hadn't been there for him, he would be dead now. I don't know what we would do without him..." Lucy said, her voice shaking.

Suddenly, Lucy collapsed into Amelia, sobbing quietly. Amelia pulled the younger girl into a hug, whispering into her hair, "Don't cry, dear heart. You shouldn't worry over what might have been. Be happy for what is."

Just as suddenly as she collapsed, Lucy pulled away, wiping vigorously at her eyes. "I'm sorry, Princess Amelia. That was highly inappropriate. Please forgive me."

Amelia took Lucy's hand again. "There is nothing to forgive, your Majesty. Your love for your brother is a beautiful thing, and is nothing to be ashamed of."

"Thank you."

Then, in the distance, came someone's shout, "BREAKFAST!"

The tent flap closed and Peter drifted back into unconsciousness.

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It was late in the afternoon when Amelia threw open the tent flap and walking over to Peter, sitting down with a thud next to him. "Good afternoon, my King!"

Peter squinted at her, scowling. "I thought you wanted me to sleep."

Amelia grinned. "That was before. Now it's time to change your dressings."

Peter blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the light. "You seem remarkably happy about that, Princess."

Amelia clucked at him. "Please don't call me princess. Right now, I'm just Amelia because you're my patient."

"Then you must call me Peter, if the doctor-patient relationship must be so casual."

"King Peter."

"Just Peter. And you didn't answer my original question."

Amelia grinned at him. "You don't want me to answer that."

"Now my curiosity is piqued."

"If you must know, it's because I have to be extra happy for the both of us, because patients usually aren't too happy before dressing changes," she admitted.

"Why not?" he asked suspiciously.

"It's usually when they're in the most discomfort. While I'm changing you, I'll fill you full of medicine that will kill the pain. Then, the effects of the medicine slowly wear off until the next time I change your dressings, so the worst part is usually the morning before the change. Besides, a doctor in a good mood is usually reassuring to a patient when he's looking at a large gaping hole in his stomach," she explained, grinning amusedly.

Peter was having a hard time telling if she was teasing. He didn't feel like he was in that much pain.

Amelia pulled down the blankets covering him and put one hand behind his head, the other behind one shoulder. "Okay, sit up on the count of three. 1, 2... 3!" She hoisted him up.

Peter let out a yelp of pain. "Let me back down! Back down!" he wheezed.

"In a moment, let me finish unwrapping the linens," Amelia answered, grunting as he struggled against her. She let him back down soon after, though it felt like ages to Peter.

"By Aslan, what was _that_?" he demanded, eyes still wide with the shock of the pain.

Amelia shrugged. "I told you patients don't like it, but it must be done."

Peter glowered at her, and then a new thought occurred to him. "Lucy's vial!"

"No," Amelia answered simply.

"What do you mean, no?!"

Amelia glared at him. "I won't let that vial anywhere near you. If this wound heals too quickly or _at all_ wrong, you will never walk again, do you understand? The vial may heal you quicker, but do you want to risk losing your ability to walk for good for the sake of a speedy recovery?!" Her expression softened. "We may be able to try it later, once the muscles have regained some of their original strength. But until then, it's not worth the risk."

"She's right, Peter..." Lucy said, peering in from outside. "I won't give you the vial even if you asked for it. You'd regret it forever."

Peter groaned. "But it would make everything better _right now_ if it works... It worked for Edmund when he was injured."

"Different injury," Lucy answered fiercely. "And besides, you're going to survive now, there's no doubt. I'd rather save it for life-threatening injuries only."

Amelia finished uncovering the linens on Peter's stomach and sat back to survey the injury. "Now, I must admit that I'm very impressed."

Peter looked down at this wound and immediately shut his eyes. "Kindly explain to me what's so impressive about _that_."

"You're healing remarkably well. This is much better looking than it was when I first got you back here," Amelia said. Now, that wasn't entirely accurate. To Amelia's trained eye, it was clear that the wound was healing well, but to the casual onlooker it would look like Peter's wound was gaping and festering. When Peter had first been injured, the wound had looking a great deal like an over-sized paper cut. In Peter's eyes, the paper cut probably would have looked better. "Still though," Amelia said, frowning to herself, "I think we might need to get you stitched up. We'd best wait until we reach Cair Paravel for that though."

Peter opened his eyes again, looking hopeful. "We're going back to Cair Paravel?"

"Yes, but you can't ride or walk on your own. I'm not sure how we're going to move you."

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In the end, a hammock was attached to the saddles of Farheart and Lucy's mare, Annabel. The two horses, mounted each by their mistresses, walked side-by-side, Peter slung in between them.

For the tenth time in the hour since they'd started their journey back to Cair Paravel, Amelia leaned over to peer down at Peter. "Are you doing alright, your Majesty?"

Peter, whom had a hat pulled down over his head to shield his eyes from the sun, pushed the brim of the hat back, his eyes showing exasperation. "I'm fine, but I'd be much better if I could sleep."

Amelia frowned. "I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do to reduce the rocking. Maybe you can just let it rock you to sleep, your Majesty?"

Peter grinned, despite his pain. "Oh, I would love to do that, but you keep asking me if I'm alright, and it makes it very difficult to sleep."

Amelia chuckled. "My apologies. Sweet dreams, my king."

Peter tipped his hat to her, put it back down over his eyes, and promptly fell asleep.


	3. Where You're From

**Chapter 3 – Where You're From**

Peter slept for the rest of the way to Cair Paravel, excluding only the times when he was moved from his hammock to his tent for the night. Even then, whether he was truly awake could be subject to debate. The first time he truly woke was a few days after they returned to Cair Paravel. He was in his own room. Amelia, Susan and Lucy were huddled over something in the corner as he opened his bleary eyes. He inhaled deeply, was momentarily revolted by the smell, and promptly vomited over the side of his bed. Somehow there was already a bucket there.

When he sat back up again, Lucy was cringing, Susan had her hand over her mouth and Amelia hadn't even flinched. Peter reached for the towel that had appeared next to his bed and wiped his mouth.

"You expected that, didn't you?" he asked, rubbing his aching head.

Amelia turned around. "Yes, I did. You're stomach isn't particularly strong right now, and this smells disgusting until it's finished."

Peter glowered at her. "You couldn't have made it somewhere else?"

Amelia paused, looking guilty. "I… well… you see, you need to have an empty stomach to take this medicine. Either your stomach empties itself after you take it and then you have to take it twice, or your stomach empties itself first and you only have to take it once. Trust me; it's much more pleasant this way."

Peter glared at her again while Lucy and Susan stared in disbelief.

"This is more pleasant?" Lucy asked, sounding harsher than she had intended to.

Amelia nodded. "He needed to empty his stomach anyways. I know from experience that this doesn't taste particularly wonderful going down and it's much worse coming back up. If you've ever had to taste this, you'd do anything to avoid tasting it twice."

"I'm not taking it," Peter said adamantly.

Amelia snorted. "Don't be a wimp. Just plug your nose."

There was a momentary pause of shock in which the four Pevensies (as Edmund had arrived at the door in the moments previous) stared openly at Amelia. Then, without warning, Peter broke into raucous laughter.

"What's so funny?" Amelia demanded, sitting down on the bed next to him.

"By Aslan, it's nice to hear you say that," Peter said, bursting into fits of alternating giggles and gasps of pain.

The rest of the people in the room were staring at the High King as if he'd just lost his mind. Amelia touched her nose with a finger, confusion written all over her face. "You're thanking me for calling you a wimp?" she asked slowly.

Peter finally calmed down enough to speak properly. "It's been years since someone has said anything like that to me. I'm the High King, you know. Calling me a wimp isn't appropriate."

"And you _like _this..." Amelia continued, still confused.

"Sure. It's good for a man to have his ego deflated on occasion," Peter answered, grinning mischievously.

Amelia laughed now, too. "Well, then, I'm sorry I damaged your oh-so-fragile ego, my King."

Peter wiggled his eyebrows. "Be careful that you don't offend me too much."

Amelia shrugged. "So long as you're my patient I can do what I want as long as it is beneficial to your health. And, like you said, it's good for a man to have his ego deflated on occasion."

"Give me my medicine," Peter said, abruptly changing the subject.

Amelia rolled her eyes and handed him the medicine. As he put it to his lips, she reached up and pinched his nostrils between her finger and thumb. He drank, but was watching her curiously the whole time.

"Why are you plubbing by dose?"

"Wash your mouth out first," Amelia ordered, handing him a cup of water. "Otherwise, it might come back up again. The stuff tastes disgusting. Plugging your nose keeps you from tasting it."

Peter did as he was told, inhaling deeply when Amelia released his nose, and yawned.

Edmund cleared his throat. "Lu, Tumnus is looking for you. He was wondering if you would like to join him for a walk."

Susan lifted her head. "Looks like Peter might need another nap. Shall we join you, Lucy?"

Lucy giggled, skipping out of the room. "Of course! Come on, Ed!" she called as Susan followed her from the room.

Once the others had left, Amelia took the cups from Peter and put them on the small table in the corner of the room where several bouquets of herbs were laid out to dry. She grinned as she turned back to face Peter. "Queen Susan was quite right. You should go to sleep."

"But I only just woke!" Peter answered, frowning.

"Sleep is a hundred fold more valuable to a healing body than any medicine," Amelia answered, sounding remarkably like a schoolteacher scolding a student.

Peter yawned again. "But I have so much energy!"

Amelia laughed. "Shall I sing you a lullaby then?"

He scowled at her, but let his eyes fall shut anyways. He thought she was joking.

A high, clear voice rang out, following a slow, calm melody with words Peter couldn't understand. He opened his eyes in surprise. Amelia was still sitting on the side of his bed. She had her eyes closed and was singing what sounded remarkably like a foreign lullaby of some kind. She had a stunning voice, and the song was hauntingly beautiful.

"Peter..." Amelia's voice called out to him, soothingly.

Peter opened one eye. "Why do you insist on my sleeping, and then, as soon as I get comfortable, rouse me out of my calm again? I'm never going to get any sleep this way!"

To his utter surprise, Amelia started laughing. "Peter, you've been asleep for almost 4 hours. I needed to wake you because their Majesties are coming up with some dinner for you."

Peter's stomach growled loudly in response. "I see," he said, feeling slightly embarrassed. There was an awkward silence for a moment. "What was that song?" he asked, watching Amelia crush some of her herbs.

"A lullaby. My mother used to sing it to me when I was very young."

"What language is it?"

Amelia smiled sadly. "I don't know. I've never known what the words were. I can just remember her singing it to me, when I was so little that I couldn't understand the words yet. I pieced together the words and sounds as best I could, but I'll never know what she was actually singing."

Peter looked confused. "You can't... ask her?"

"No." She paused, deciding on the best explanation. "Deirdre is kind to me, and treats me like a daughter, but she did not give birth to me. She found me in the forest when I could barely walk, and she's raised me as her own ever since."

"I'm sorry..."

Amelia smiled at him. "No need to be. It doesn't sadden me. Sometimes I'm curious, though. About my family. I dream about it sometimes. My mother sometimes made sounds come from a block of wood. A screaming monster used to fly past my bedroom window three times a day. I was scared of the monster when I was young, so I tried to hide from it. I climbed into a box to deaden the screaming, and one time, I couldn't find the lid again. Instead, I followed this little pinpoint of light, and the next thing I knew, I was in a forest where Deirdre found me."

Peter was almost sitting up entirely straight now, as much as it pained him to do so. "You're from somewhere other than Narnia? You came here through a box?!" he asked, shocked.

Amelia blinked at him. "I don't know. I'd always thought that the tunnel had led to somewhere outside of my house, just far enough away that when I came out, I couldn't find my way back again."

Peter pressed his lips together for a moment, thinking. "Amelia... this may sound a little bit crazy... but my siblings and I came to Narnia through a wardrobe."

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This one is a bit short, but I like this as an ending, so there. Plus, short chapters mean fast updates! Hurray!! Reviews please! Reviewers get a fresh baked chocolate chip muffin :) Baking is the best cure for writer's block!


	4. Bedridden

**Chapter 4 – Bedridden**

The Pevensies had long given up trying to explain how they'd arrived in Narnia. Their standard answer had become "We came by Aslan's will", which, all things considered, was true. That's why it felt so strange for Peter to be sitting in bed, relating the story of their strange arrival to Amelia.

Amelia sat very still the whole time, listening carefully to every word. Once Peter was finished his story, he watch anxiously for Amelia's reaction. Amelia, who had been sitting cross-legged on the floor, lay back so that she could stare at the ceiling. "You know," she said after a while, "I'd never really considered the existence of a place other than Narnia. I'd always thought that I'd just escaped my house through a tunnel of some kind. When Deirdre couldn't find my house, we thought that perhaps the screaming monster had destroyed it... and my birth parents with it. Really, though, it's strange that there was no evidence whatsoever of the house, my parents or the monster immediately afterwards. Maybe I did come from somewhere else..."

Peter's gaze on her was intense and unwavering. "You think you may have come from England? Or Earth?"

Amelia shrugged. "Who knows? If there is one other world out there, then there are probably thousands of other worlds. I could have easily come from any of them." She could see the slight disappointment on Peter's face at this revelation. "Besides, there aren't any screaming monsters in England like the one outside my window," she added.

Peter eased himself back down onto his pillows. "No, I suppose not. You're right. It would have been interesting to discuss our Old World with someone, though."

Amelia stood up so she could walk over to the bed and sit next to him. "I don't think it would make a difference. I can't remember much of anything about my Old World, even if it was England."

Peter sighed, and then groaned in pain as the deep breath made his lungs expand into his bruised ribs. "Well," he said, his voice tight with pain but obviously full of determination to ignore it, "if you were, at least we could tell you about where you come from."

Amelia smiled reassuringly. "Why can't you just tell me anyways? England is as likely as anywhere else. It can be my adopted Old World."

There was a knock at the door, and Amelia stood up to answer it, but the door was flung open a moment later to reveal a rather flustered looking servant and Lucy, who marched into the room, looking like she was about to explode.

"A consort?!" she demanded, glaring at Peter furiously from the end of the bed.

Peter looked dumbfounded. "I'm sorry?"

"You ordered a _consort_ for Tumnus and I?" she shrieked. "Peter, that's the most ridiculous thing I have _ever _heard and I demand that you fix it now!!"

Peter frowned. "You know it's not that I don't trust you, or Tumnus, but there are certain social requirements for a young woman, and being a Queen...". Peter's explanation was interrupted by an explosion from the nearly-crying Lucy.

"You don't have to have a consort to be alone with _her_!" she shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Amelia. There was a long silence.

"Queen Lucy," Amelia said gently, "I am your brother's doctor. It is a different situation, because of the nature of our relationship. Right now, I am not a woman alone with the King, I am the King's doctor and I must remain at his side at all times, regardless of my gender. It is a matter of the King's safety, which, I'm afraid, trumps social acceptability." She paused, and moved closer to Lucy, whispering in her ear. "If it would make Your Majesty feel better about it, I would talk to the High King about having a consort present while I am tending to him."

Lucy looked ashamed. "No, no, I don't mean to get in the way of your work. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring you into this. This is not your fault," she said. Lucy's face went from soft and apologetic to determined and furious again in a matter of seconds, though, when she glared back at her brother. "This doesn't mean that I'm finished with you, Peter. What is socially unacceptable about it?"

Peter sighed. "Lucy, you're a young woman now. You must be accompanied when you are in the presence of a man, now. That's all. The fact that you're a Queen makes it even more important. The people love you, Lucy, but it wouldn't stop the whispers from happening if I let you spend time alone with Tumnus for much longer. It's not a reflection on what I think of you or Tumnus, Lu. You should know that."

Lucy glowered at him. "No, not acceptable. Tumnus is a _faun_. I would understand if we were talking about my being alone with another Son of Adam, but I don't even think it's possible to do what you're thinking with a faun."

Peter's face turned pink and there was another tense silence as he tried to figure out how to explain this to his younger sister.

Amelia pressed her mouth in a thin as she tried desperately to keep from laughing.

Lucy turned a shade paler. "You... can't... right?" she asked meekly. The silence stretched, and she took another look at the looks on Peter and Amelia's faces. "You can?!" she asked, her voice an octave higher than usual. "I... well, I... I guess I'll have to think of another reason why we don't need a consort. But mark my words, Peter, I will!!" Lucy turned to leave, only to be met by Susan and Edmund at the door, followed by a few servants, carrying trays of food.

Susan took about a half second to survey the room and the expressions of the people in it before she asked, "What's going on here?"

Lucy looked pleadingly at her older sister. "Su, tell Peter that I don't need a consort to spend time with Tumnus!"

Susan blinked. "But, why wouldn't you?"

"Because I don't want one!!"

Susan laughed. "That's not the issue, Lucy. You need one."

"But you don't have a consort following you around all the time," Lucy accused, frowning.

Edmund raised his hand. "Actually, Lu, I generally fill that position."

Lucy looked surprised, and then thought about it. It was true that Susan and Edmund were together an awful lot, and she couldn't think of a time when Susan had been alone with any man without Edmund (or occasionally Peter) being at least in the same room.

Susan smiled, wrapping an arm about her sister's shoulders. "Don't worry, it will be fine. When you and Tumnus want to do something, just come tell Ed or Peter or I and I'm sure one of us would love to join you. Maybe even all of us could come! And you only need to do this when you'd be alone with him; if you're going to be in public, it would be fine. It's not so bad, I promise." She motioned to the servants. "Now, let's not worry and have some dinner."

The three younger Pevensies arranged themselves on the floor next to Peter's bed while the servants put out a selection of different snacks and finger foods.

Amelia moved towards the door. "Excuse me, your Majesties, but if I might be given leave, I'd like to go find some food of my own, and perhaps inquire as to where I can get a large amount of raw garlic."

"No, no, no!" Susan exclaimed. "You must join us, Princess Amelia. We have plenty of food, and we would love your company." She motioned to one of the servants. "Hannah, please ask in the kitchen about the garlic for the Princess."

The servant girl dipped her head and left. The other servants quickly followed suit.

Amelia sat down next to Susan, sitting with her back up against the bed next to Peter's head.

Peter adjusted his position with remarkable grace and very little groaning, and looked down at the food spread out before them. "Looks delicious. I haven't had real food in a long time," he said, reaching carefully towards the plate of kebabs with spicy smoked meat and several different varieties of rich fried vegetables.

Amelia's hand shot out and snatched his wrist with blinding speed, never looking up from her other hand, which was gathering an assortment of delicious food to her plate. "And you won't be having real food today either. I had the servants bring something special for you," she said, lifting a small plate and bowl that had been hidden next to her. The bowl contained a beef broth, and the plate had a roll with butter and a few raw vegetables.

Peter's face fell. "You can't honestly expect me to eat this while having to watch you eat that."

Amelia lifted an eyebrow. "We can leave if you'd like, but you're still only getting bread and broth for dinner."

Peter scowled at Amelia and then turned his attention to Susan. "How are the talks with Queen Deirdre going?" he asked, changing the subject instead of answering Amelia's challenge.

"Oh, wonderfully! All of the dull parts have been dealt with, so now all we need to do is decide on a proper reward and have the celebration!" Susan exclaimed.

Edmund laughed. "Great, all we need is an excuse for another party."

Susan shrugged. "Sod off, Edmund. I like planning parties. I suppose I could tease you for your obsession with sparring."

"But sparring is useful."

"So are parties. How do you expect we would keep our citizens happy if we didn't hold parties?"

"It's not too difficult for people to entertain themselves," Lucy admitted.

Susan frowned. "Come on, Lucy, you must side with me, or I'll be certainly outnumbered by all of these warrior-types!" she said, gesturing to Peter, Amelia and Edmund.

"I agree with Queen Susan, actually," Amelia offered nonchalantly.

Susan stared at her, surprised. "You do?"

Amelia shrugged, chuckling to herself. "Absolutely. I love music and dancing. Life in the wild means I have to learn about fighting and healing, but if I could, I'd spend all my time learning about the arts. I love painting as well."

Peter nodded. "So that's how you learned to sing like that. Can you paint as well as you can sing?"

The others were staring at Amelia, surprised by the revelation of her singing skill. Amelia blushed at the compliment and the attention. "I don't see myself as being particularly good. I've never been properly trained like the bards and minstrels here. I think I'm probably better at singing than at painting though; it's much easier to practice singing when we move from place to place than it is to practice painting."

Lucy leaned towards Amelia, eyes wide with curiosity. "Will you sing something for us?"

"Lucy, she's not here for entertainment. She may not want to. You shouldn't ask such things of our guests," Susan scolded.

Amelia shrugged. "Don't worry, Queen Susan, it's quite alright." She turned to Lucy. "Do you mind if I sing it some other time, Queen Lucy? It is much easier to sing when I'm not trying to eat, you see," she said, grinning.

Lucy laughed. "Of course, but you must sing for us some time. I can't wait to hear!"

"Perhaps a proper performance is in order? Would you like to sing at the celebration for our allegiance with your people?" Susan offered.

"I'd love that! Of course, if it would please your Majesties?" Amelia asked, beaming.

The reply to that was a resounding yes. The rest of the meal was spent mostly with Susan planning the performance and deciding which dress Amelia would wear.

When dinner was finished, Amelia shooed the younger royals out of the room again. When she turned around, she found Peter glaring at her with an expression that made her thankful that looks can not, in fact, kill a person.

"What's the matter, Peter?" she asked slowly.

"I don't expect to eat food like that again, particularly not while having to watch you eat real food. I expect proper food for breakfast tomorrow morning," he ordered.

Amelia met his gaze and returned it with equal ferocity. "And I expect that my patient will do as I tell him to. You will eat beef broth and bread as long as I deem it needed, _Sire_."

"All I need do is call a servant in and I can have them bring me whatever food I'd like. You may be able to order me around, but you cannot override an order from the High King."

Amelia smiled without humor. "If you eat something I don't agree with, I will not give you any medicine to ease your churning stomach afterwards, on the grounds that you must learn from your own stupidity, Majesty. You will be allowed to enjoy all of the suffering that you will bring upon yourself, understand?"

They glared at each other in silence for a few moments longer before Amelia turned away and move swiftly to her workbench, where she began to prepare a mixture from the piles of crushed herbs scattered across the surface. She turned to show him the paste that was forming in her mortar.

"This should help with your pain and might make it easier to move about a bit. I'll put it on each time I change you dressings. It might sting a bit while I'm applying it, but I promise you'll feel better in the long run," she explained.

Peter watched her cautiously. "And here I thought you enjoyed my pain."

"Of course not!"

"You were threatening to let me 'enjoy' my suffering only a moment ago," he accused.

Amelia grinned cheekily. "That's only if you don't listen to me." She sat down on the bed. "Now, sit up and we'll take a look at those wounds of yours."

Peter cringed, knowing what was coming next, but sat up anyways. He held his breath as Amelia peeled off the bandages. Peter once again made the mistake of looking down at his wound once the bandages were off. "Lion's mane," he muttered under his breath, closing his eyes and swallowing hard.

"It's not so bad," Amelia answered. "You'll be needing stitches though. Best get those done sooner rather than later."

Peter was barely listening, instead struggling against his churning stomach. "Anything," he said, "anything, just as long as I don't have to look at that again."

Amelia smiled to herself. "Keep your eyes closed for a bit longer then. I need to go get some helping hands."

A few minutes later, Peter found himself with three large, male Angels holding down his limbs while Amelia threaded a nasty-looking needle.

"Just what do you think you're doing to me?!" Peter demanded, looking afraid.

"I told you, you need stitches. Probably 50 or so," Amelia said, running the tip of the needle through a candle flame. "Alex, drug him."

Another Angel appeared in the doorway, carrying a cloth. He draped it over Peter's face, and everything went black.

"Really, you should join me some time." Susan's voice floated through Peter's mind in the darkness.

"I hardly think this is quite the same as needlework, your Majesty." Amelia's reply followed at a leisurely pace.

"Nonsense! How hard can it be? And I assure you, needlework is _much_ more pleasant."

Peter opened his eyes to see his family in his room, with Susan and Amelia bent over him, inspecting the new stitches across Peter's stomach. Amelia was laughing.

"How can you be so sure? I would assume you've never stitched a person up before."

Susan made a face. "And I hope I never do! All that blood can't be very nice to work with!"

Amelia straightened her face and raised herself up to her full height. "Quite on the contrary, your Majesty! There is nothing quite like stitching through a man's flesh; the blood acts perfectly as a lubricant to keep the thread of knotting up. And if you're _very_ lucky, you'll get to stitch him near a broken bone. It's like a puzzle, trying to guide your needle through a maze of splintered bone," she said, grinning evilly as Susan drew back from her with a horrified expression.

"Princess Amelia, that's absolutely disgusting!!"

Amelia burst out laughing, followed shortly by Lucy and Edmund, who were both obviously listening to the conversation.

Peter let out a croak, trying to speak. He closed his mouth for a moment and then tried again. "As much fun as this is to listen to, I just _saw_ all my flesh and bone and I would appreciate it if you didn't describe it in quite so much detail, or I fear I might be sick," he said, his voice sounding barely better than grinding stones together.

Amelia reached over to the table next to his bed and silently offered him a drink of water.

Peter grabbed it and tried to drink.

"Peter, wait...!" Amelia tried to warn him.

Peter, upon getting the cup to his lips, suddenly felt like his entire torso was burning. He dropped the glass and let out a cry.

Amelia grabbed his hand and pulled it back down to his side, tearing back the blanket that was covering him. "Knife," she ordered, holding out her hand to Lucy, who was standing between her and her workbench.

Lucy snatched a knife off the table and handed it to Amelia, watching with horror as Amelia savagely cut open the linen bandages around Peter's torso.

Once the bandages were open, Amelia's face relaxed and her shoulders sagged with relief. Then, she looked up at Peter and glared at him with unexpected savagery. "Don't _ever_ do that again! You could have torn your stitches! Do you have _any_ idea how bad that would be?"

"How nice of you to warn me that I could kill myself by moving," Peter growled back at her, furious.

Amelia rolled her eyes. "You aren't going to _kill_ yourself. Most people are just intelligent enough to stop moving once it starts to hurt a little bit. Most people don't keep moving until you run the risk of tearing your stitches."

"You should have warned me! How was I to know that I'm supposed to take care when moving even the slightest bit?" Peter demanded angrily.

"Care is something you're supposed to take about _everything_ when you have a giant hole in your gut!"

Peter glowered at her. "Of course, the irony of that is that I've only had to take such care about everything _after_ you stitched the giant hole closed."

"Then you've got horse shoes shoved up your ass."

That comment was followed immediately by silence, broken only by the whack of Amelia slapping her hand over her mouth in horror.

"By Aslan…" she murmured, pulling her hand down slowly. "I'm so sorry if I've offended anyone. I don't know what came over me."

Edmund let out a funny snorting sound. He was clearly trying desperately not to laugh. "I think I know exactly what came over you, princess. You've spent your life travelling as a warrior, and I should know from experience that soldiers can often be vulgar. Far more so than that. You certainly haven't offended me, though I can't speak for my sisters."

Lucy grinned. "I suppose perhaps a habit of coarse language is the price we must pay for your ability to save Peter. All is forgiven."

"I agree with Lucy," Susan said, waving a hand to indicate that she was not offended either.

Peter, on the other hand, was staring at Amelia with the utmost suspicion. "We must speak in private," he said slowly. The other three Pevensies left the room, though Amelia didn't notice the sound of footsteps walking away from the other side of the closed door.

"I'm truly sorry if I've offended you, your Majesty," Amelia said, bowing quickly.

"Whether or not you've offended me depends on exactly what that expression means," Peter answered.

Amelia lifted her head, looking utterly bewildered. "I'm sorry?"

"A horse shoe? Is that some sort of ancient medicine? Because that's where I draw the line. I absolutely _refuse_ to let you do anything of the sort."

There was a pause, and then Amelia collapsed to the floor, laughing so hard that tears started rolling freely down her cheeks. It was a whole ten minutes before Amelia calmed down enough to answer, and in that time, Peter's face had gone from confused to tomato red to offended to embarrassed before finally settling on mildly indignant.

"By the Lion, Peter, what kind of a doctor do you take me for?" she asked between fits of giggles, getting back to her feet. "Of _course_ it's not a medicine! What help could that possibly be?" She paused to catch her breath before she finally explained herself fully. "That's an old saying that simply means you're lucky. And usually the person saying it is either offended by or jealous of your luck, or else just simply angry at you. Haven't you ever heard that horse shoes are supposed to be lucky?"

"Oh," Peter said, considering his newfound knowledge. "Well then, no, I suppose I'm not offended by it." He paused again, his mouth slowly turning up into a grin. "Actually, now that I know what it means, it's rather amusing." Abruptly, Peter smile disappeared as there was a quiet shuffling at the door.

Amelia rolled her eyes and winked at Peter. "Well, your Majesty, I think it's time for you to get some sleep."

Peter nodded in understanding. "Alright." He made an effort to make a good deal of noise while settling himself into his bed.

"I'm going to spend the afternoon preparing some medicines and things, so I'll be here when you wake. Or at least, if I'm gone to get something, I won't be gone long," Amelia announced, merrily crunching up dried sage leaves.

Peter grunted in reply, shuffling a bit more in his bed.

The room fell into silence for a few moments, and then quiet footsteps could be heard outside the door. As they faded away, Amelia stood and opened the door a crack. Once she was sure Peter's younger siblings were gone, she shut the door again and grinned. "They will never make good spies."

Peter frowned dramatically. "Is there no hope for them then? They can't even be taught?"

Amelia laughed. "I'm afraid not. Well, Queen Lucy might, but I don't imagine she'd be good at playing the part of anyone but a bubbly princess. And doubtless she'll be as beautiful as Queen Susan when she gets older, and that kind of beauty would draw too much attention."

Peter sat up, looking amused and also slightly interest. "What about Edmund?"

Amelia looked grave. "I'm afraid I have some bad news. Your brother has two left feet." Her face broke into a grin as Peter let out a hoot of laughter. "Lucy told me on the way back here to the castle."

Peter was still grinning, but his face contorted in pain now. "By Aslan, Amelia, you've got to stop making me laugh. It simply hurts too much."

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La fin de chapter quatre! Now translating from bad French to English… The end of chapter four!

Okay I'm weird :)

ANYWAYS, as I still have some fresh baked muffins, I'm offering them up again to reviewers, only this time, reviewers get them warmed with peanut butter on them… mmmm….


	5. Walkabout

Hurray! This chapter is a favourite of mine so far. It's relatively short, but it's about quality, not quantity :) Go go! Read read! And then review! Cookies for reviewers!

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**Chapter 5 – Walkabout**

Peter was able to stand on his own for a while, and even walk about a bit, though it hurt him terribly to do so. Still, Amelia made him stand up and walk two laps around his room twice a day. Peter seemed to hate her for it while he was actually doing it, but would often admit later that he did feel better for it once he got back into bed again. He'd gotten into a much better mood since Amelia had started letting him eat real food.

Susan pushed open the door to Peter's room to find Amelia sitting cross legged on his bed and Peter standing up, but doubled over leaning against the wall, just over half way around his lap and cursing Amelia in every way he could think of through his laboured breathing.

"You're cruel to say such things," Amelia said, her expression blank.

"I'm cruel? You're the cruel one," Peter hissed, sliding a little further down the wall. He looked at Susan. "Kill her for me, Susan. She's a demon, and she deserves nothing less than a slow, painful death."

Susan walked over to him and slipped her arm under his shoulders. "Is it truly that bad, Peter?"

He nodded, his breath coming more shallowly than before. His breathing became progressively more laboured, and soon he was clutching at his chest, barely drawing in any breath.

"Let him go, you're putting too much strain on his diaphragm by holding him up like that," Amelia said, jumping off the bed and walking over to make sure Peter could still stand once Susan let him go. She held him at arms length by the shoulders while Susan stepped away from him. "Come on, Peter, only a few more steps."

"I think I'd rather stay here," he rasped, cringing as he took a deep breath.

"Just go one step at a time. One more step couldn't hurt that much, could it? I think you can stand to take one more step," she coaxed. She was answered by silence and no sign of movement. She leaned forward, touching her forehead to his. "Please, Peter. You can do this. Remember the first time you had to walk around the room?" she asked. She knew he remembered. He tensed visibly at the memory. "See? You're improving every time. This is much better than it was before. Just take one more step for me. Just one."

Susan found it painful to watch as Peter lifted his foot, grunting in pain, and struggle to set it down again in front of the other. He began to tilt forward, unable to keep his own balance while exerting the effort, but Amelia steadied him, keeping her forehead pressed against his. Once his foot was on the ground again, his whole body seemed to sag, drained by the effort it took to take one step.

"Good," Amelia cooed, moving her hands from his shoulders so that she could press one against his cheek and the other could rub his back. "Good. Now, how about one more?"

"I can't," Peter moaned, exhausted.

"Yes, you can. I know how strong you are. You survived this injury in the first place, and now you are going to recover from it. You can do this. You can take as long as you need to. Breathe and get ready, but I need you to take just one more step."

Peter let out a hoarse chuckle. "You're going to say that again once I do, though."

Amelia smiled back at him. "Yes I am, but it doesn't matter right now. Right now, just concentrate on the next step, okay?"

Peter nodded. "I'm okay, I can do it," he said, giving Amelia a sign that she could let go of him. He swayed a little and leaned against the wall, but once he regained his balance, he offered her a pained grin. "Am I allowed to keep cursing you?"

Amelia laughed. "Curse away, Your Majesty. Aslan knows I deserve it."

Peter grunted as he took another painful step. "Good," he croaked, "because I meant it when I said you were a demon."

Susan turned to Amelia. "Breakfast's been served, princess, but I'll let the kitchens know that your meals are to be kept warm until you come and get them, alright?"

Amelia smiled. "Thank you, Queen Susan."

Susan smiled the smile of a girl talking to her best friend. "You're on a first name basis with Peter, so you really should just call me Susan."

Amelia beamed back. "Of course! And naturally, you can call me Amelia, then."

Peter growled. "Well, I'm glad you two are becoming such good friends while I'm dying."

Amelia rolled her eyes and pushed herself up off the bed. "Oh, come off it, Peter, you're not dying. Just a couple more steps. Make it to the bookshelf and I'll let you cut across the room. You don't have to go all the way to the corner."

Peter glared up at her, eyes full of fire, and snarled at her. He drew in a breath and threw his weight forward, taking three long strides to cross the room and move into the corner that Amelia said he didn't have to reach. He hit the wall and used it to keep himself upright, howling in pain.

Amelia pinched the bridge of her nose. To everyone watching, it looked like she was simply annoyed by Peter's stubbornness. In fact, she was trying to subdue the tears that were suddenly threatening to fall. When she looked up, her face was blank again. "The purpose of this exercise is to gently stretch the stitches. If you do that again, you might rip them and we'll be right back at the beginning again." She was suddenly on her feet and crossed the room to kneel in front of Peter. She leaned forward and inspected the stitches, touching her finger gently to each one. "You're alright," she said finally, standing. She touched his shoulder, smiling wryly. "But you did manage to worry me enough that you got yourself out of your laps tonight. Don't think you can try that again, though. Now, you're almost back to bed. Come on, only a couple more steps."

Peter let out a sound that could as easily have been a groan as a laugh. "I can't even stand after that, never mind walk," he said, leaning heavily against the wall.

Amelia took a step away from him and held out her arms. "Then come to me. Don't worry about the bed just yet. Just take the step. If you fall, I'll catch you."

Peter grunted, nodding resolutely, and pushed himself towards her. True to his word, he fell, and true to hers, she caught him. It took him five steps to reach the bed. He fell every time and she caught him every time, whispering words of encouragement as he tried to regain his balance.

Susan had never seen Peter so vulnerable before. If she was entirely honest, it made her a little uncomfortable. She never knew anyone who would willingly allow someone to see this raw part of them. She wondered for a moment if Peter had been given any choice in the matter, but then she realized that there was an extraordinary trust between them, one that certainly wouldn't be there if Peter resented Amelia being there. She's be forgotten entirely by the pair, their attentions focused completely on each other and the next step, so Susan slipped quietly out of the room.

Peter was attempting his last step towards them bed.

Amelia was sitting cross-legged on the bed; her arms were open to him as they always had been before. "Come on, Peter, one more. That's it. Then you're done. You'll be able to lie down. Come here. Just one more…"

Peter was near the edge of giving up. If he'd been more than one step away from the bed, he might have collapsed to the floor, but instead, he pushed himself forward and collapsed onto the bed. He curled up instantly, letting Amelia pull the blanket up over him as he rested his head in her lap.

Amelia ran her fingers soothingly through Peter's hair, listening to his breathing as it went from laboured grunts of pain to a calmer, deeper, more even breath. To anyone else, it would have looked like he was sleeping, but Amelia knew that Peter didn't sleep after his laps. He never had. It was hard on her that he couldn't sleep; her own breathing didn't relax until his did. Never before had helping someone else caused her so much pain. She hated to see Peter hurt. She suddenly understood why she'd never been allowed to work on Deirdre or Adrianna; caring for someone often means you'd do anything to avoid causing them pain, but the road of healing was often littered with it.

"Peter?" she asked suddenly.

He groaned in response.

"That was the first time you've made it all the way around twice without stopping for a rest."

He grunted again.

Amelia looked down at him, her fingers moving to pull his hair out of his face. "It gets easier," she promised quietly, gently touching his face.

Peter nodded. "I know." He reached slowly up and pressed his hand over hers.

Outside, Lucy found Susan sitting with her back against Peter's door, holding her head in her hands.

"What's wrong, Su? Is there something the matter with Peter?" she asked urgently, kneeling in front of Susan.

"No, nothing's really wrong with him. He's just in so much pain…"

Lucy stood and gave Susan a moment to shuffle forward so she could open the door. She peered into the room. Neither Peter nor Amelia appeared to notice.

Peter was laying on his back, stretched carefully out on his bed, his head in Amelia's lap. He was looking up at her.

Amelia's fingers were buried in Peter's hair. She was leaning over and looking down into his face, smiling slightly.

Lucy smiled, watching, but unable to hear, the whispered conversation. Her smile widened as Peter's prone body began to shake with silent laughter. She shut the door, but she kept grinning to herself, despite the strange look Susan was giving her. "Peter is fine," she said finally. "Amelia's taking care of him."

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Hurray!!!!!! Okay, now reviews! As per my promise before, there are cookies! Your choice of chocolate chip or oatmeal raisin. Let me know your preference by reviewing :P


	6. The Allegiance

**Chapter 6 – The Allegiance**

In a few weeks, Peter was able to walk for nearly a hundred paces with dignity. The royal family chose to hold the allegiance ceremony so that, at the same time, Peter's improving health could be displayed to the citizens of Narnia. The High King's people worried over him; it was not uncommon for well-wishers to leave gifts when they passed by Cair Paravel.

Peter and Edmund had spent the afternoon together, crammed in a room full of clothes and jewelry and tittering women trying to decide what outfits would suit the Kings best. There was a pair of couches in the center of the room, facing each other over a table. Peter was sitting on one, Edmund on the other, and the table was covered in all sorts of books and finger foods to keep the men entertained while the women worked.

Peter sighed for the third time in five minutes and popped a piece of chocolate into his mouth, looking immensely bored.

Edmund smirked, looking up from his book. "You know, Peter, you could at least try to entertain yourself. I know reading and other such intelligent pursuits aren't your idea of fun, but you could at least try."

Peter glowered at him, but started grinning despite himself. "Are you suggesting that I'm unintelligent?"

One of the ladies, a lady in waiting for Susan, stopped her work to smile at the Kings. "Now, now, we don't want to be breaking up any fights. We're almost finished." She gave Peter an extra smile and returned to her work, looking sullen, when Peter didn't respond. And that, in fact, was exactly why Peter was so bored: he usually entertained himself by flirting with the ladies of the castle, but his heart just wasn't in it today and he couldn't understand why.

"You know, I hear Amelia is a very good dancer. It's too bad you won't be able to dance tonight," Edmund said nonchalantly.

Peter frowned. "You can't possibly imagine how boring this night is looking to be for me. I can't do anything but just sit. What's the point if you can't dance?"

Edmund laughed. "Well now you know how I feel, Peter. I've never been able to dance. What you're going to be doing tonight is what I _always_ do at these parties. At least you'll have someone to talk to."

Peter's mood didn't lighten even a little bit, despite Edmund's efforts.

"Oh, for goodness sake, Peter, what's wrong?"

Peter sighed. "To be honest, Ed, I've no idea. I usually enjoy this sort of thing. I've had to go to these parties unable to dance before, and I still had a wonderful time. I'm not sure why I'm so gloomy about this one." Though he didn't say it, he also usually enjoyed preparing for the parties in the afternoons. He usually chatted and flirted unabashedly with the ladies (which entertained Edmund to an endless degree, though he'd never _ever_ admit it). Today, though, Peter found the presence and attention of the women stifling. He sighed again. He'd been planning on trying a walk outside with Amelia today, but when he'd suggested it, she'd reminded him of the party. He'd much rather have gone on the walk.

"It's so hard to be a king," Peter said loftily, making Edmund snort. "All of these duties and thing getting in the way of having fun. Doesn't it seem ridiculous that I have to be there to oversee an allegiance between Narnia and the Western Tribes?"

"Oh yes, it's completely absurd that the king of a country is expected to actually be at the forming of the allegiance between peoples," Edmund replied sarcastically.

"Your Majesties? Your clothes are ready. Please try them on, so we can make some final adjustments," said a young servant girl, curtsying at the head of the table.

Edmund stood up and helped Peter to his feet. "Oh, the sacrifices we must make for our country."

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As the citizens of Narnia and the members of the Western Tribes gathered in the great hall, the royals (both Narnian and the Tribeswomen) were gathering in a small room just outside the great hall, waiting for their entrances to be announced. Susan and Lucy were already there when Peter and Edmund arrived. All four of them were dressed in traditional Narnian finery. Lucy had on a peach coloured dress, her ever-longer hair held back in a braid. Susan was wearing dark red with gold jewelry. Peter was in black, trimmed with gold and red, while Edmund was dressed in navy blue trimmed in silver. All four were wearing their crowns.

Peter collapsed into a chair. "Do I have time for a moment's rest before we go in?" he asked.

Susan nodded. "I would imagine so. The others aren't even here yet."

As if on queue, the door opened and the three missing women swept into the room. They were awe-inspiring to day the least; a lesser person might describe them even as frightening. They were dressed in the finery of their own people, and their own people were warriors. They were wrapped in beautiful silks in accordance with the importance of the occasion, but there was still something wild about them.

Deirdre and Adrianna both looked like caged animals. Parties were clearly not their idea of fun. They looked like they belonged outside. While they were dressed as a queen and a princess, they were also dressed as the warriors that they were.

Deirdre was dressed in vibrant orange. She had her hair braided in a million braids with beads of wood and gold adorning each one. Her crown was a circlet of leaves dipped in gold.

Adrianna was dressed in sky blue. The sleeves of her dress ended at her elbow, revealing a thick ceremonial silver gauntlet covering each forearm. Her crown was a circlet of leaves dipped in silver, with a sapphire hanging down onto her forehead.

Amelia looked slightly different, perhaps because of her position as a healer. She, too, was wrapped in silk, though her own dress was green. She had a thin silver chain hanging on her hips with jade carved to look like leaves hanging from it. She was wearing a crown like her sister's, but she had an emerald hanging from hers, instead of a sapphire. Her hair was swept up into an elaborate bun. She was the only one with her neck exposed, and that, Peter realized, was why she looked different. She kept lifting her hand to touch the back of her neck self-consciously.

Deirdre had noticed Amelia's discomfort as well. She touched the young woman's shoulder lightly, whispering something in her ear. Amelia nodded and straightened up, but when her eyes met Peter's, she flushed and touched her neck again.

Peter resolved to take her aside and ask her what the matter was during the party.

It was another ten minutes before the royals were announced, and Peter was becoming vaguely frustrated that Amelia hadn't yet turned her back to him so he could see her neck. She'd barely spoken to him either, which only annoyed him further, since she kept looking up at him and blushing. But, before Peter could decide how to approach her and ask her what the problem was, Tumnus appeared at the door and beckoned to him.

"Your Majesty, we're ready for you."

Peter nodded and stepped into the room while a centaur with a shiny black coat and matching shiny black hair announced, "High King Peter the Magnificent!"

As Peter made his way to the dais at the end of the room, his siblings were each announced in turn, and followed him towards their thrones. He noticed that three luxurious chairs had made their way onto a lower dais in front of the thrones, situated between each of the thrones.

There were a few speeches made by officials of the court, and Edmund announced the Narnian victory over the Witch supporters (as this had been their first public appearance since the battle). The news was met by a resounding applause from the crowd.

Peter didn't pay much attention until Deirdre walked up to him. He stood, and she took his hands. "As a gesture of good will between our people, the Princess Amelia offers Narnia the gift of song," she said, speaking loudly so that everyone in the hall could hear.

Deirdre stepped down and sat down on the center throne. Adrianna was already sitting in the one to the right.

Amelia stepped up onto the stage, and this time, when Peter saw her, he had the decency to stop breathing for a moment. She'd shed whatever self-consciousness she'd had previously, and suddenly she looked incredible in her green silk dress. She was obviously excited; her eyes were glowing, burning such a bright green that it put her emerald to shame. And that was only before she began to sing. Tumnus appeared in front of the stage with his pipes, and a woman from the Western Tribes who was both shorter and hairier than Tumnus, held a harp. They began to play, and Amelia closed her eyes, swaying with the tune.

_Are you going to Beaversdam Fair?  
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme  
Remember me to one who lives there  
He was once a true love of mine_

__

Tell him to make me a cambric shirt  
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme  
Without no seams nor needlework  
Then he'll be a true love of mine

Tell him to find me an acre of land  
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme  
Between the salt water and the sea strand  
Then he'll be a true love of mine

_Are you going to Beaversdam Fair?  
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme  
Remember me to one who lives there  
He was once a true love of mine_

The song ended and the crowd erupted into thunderous applause.

Peter stared at her for a second longer than he should have in order to keep his awe unnoticed before he joined in the applause. The other three were giving Amelia a standing ovation, but he could see Lucy glancing over and snickering even as she applauded.

Amelia stepped off the stage and immediately became unsure of herself again. She apparently didn't need to be, however, as she was almost immediately asked to dance, and spent most of the night trying to work her way back to the thrones through various compliments on her singing and requests to dance (none of which she refused, Peter noticed). During that time, Peter and Deirdre signed their names to the allegiance agreement, bowed to polite applause, and returned to their seats.

It took Amelia over an hour to finally reach the throne. By this time, Peter was convinced that she was hiding something from him; she'd managed to avoid turning her back to him for the entire evening. Tumnus stopped her as she was leaving the crowd and spoke to her for a moment. Through the noise of the people, Amelia had to lean close to hear him, though she still skillfully avoided letting Peter see the back of her neck.

It was only by chance that a young Archenlander nobleman, who'd had one too many glasses of wine, stumbled into Amelia. She caught her balance quickly, but it was too late; Peter had finally caught a glimpse of her neck.

The young nobleman apologized profusely, even if his words were a little bit slurred.

Amelia waved him off, telling him to think nothing of it, and glanced up at Peter, chagrin written all over her face. She cringed when she saw his expression. She quickly excused herself from her conversation with Tumnus and began to walk towards the thrones.

Peter was already on his feet and met her at the bottom of the second dais.

"Peter, please, I can explain."

"Let's get some fresh air, shall we?" Peter asked through gritted teeth, taking her by the arm and leading her towards the balcony without waiting for a reply.

It was cooler on the balcony, and quieter. There was no one else on it to hear them.

"Turn around," Peter ordered quietly.

Amelia watched him, stubbornly refusing to move. "No."

Peter groaned and moved to step around her, but every time he did, she just twisted her body so he was still facing the front of her. He growled in frustration. "You can't keep this from me!"

"I can keep whatever I want from you," she replied haughtily.

Peter's face tightened. "I've bared my soul to you. You know every part of me."

"That's not true," Amelia interrupted.

"You've seen the deepest darkest parts of me," Peter answered.

"That's not all of you. Most of what I've seen of you is pain and hurt. That's not all there is to you."

"That's not the point!" Peter shouted, startling Amelia into silence. "The point is, I trusted you. I showed you those parts of me and I trusted you with them, and you won't even trust me enough to show me your scars!"

Amelia scowled at him. "Because you're angry! Why in the world would I tell you _anything_ when you're going to yell at me over it?"

Peter took a deep breath and lowered his voice. "I'm sorry. I'm not angry with you."

Amelia raised an eyebrow. "You most certainly are angry."

"Yes," Peter growled, "just not at you."

Her face softened immediately. "Who are you angry with, then?"

"Let me see it," Peter said, his voice calmer now.

Amelia's eyes flickered from place to place, suddenly looking everywhere but at Peter, and she covered her neck with her hand again.

Peter touched her face with his hand, tracing her jaw with his fingers, and then tilted her face up to look at him. "Please."

Amelia lowered her hand and her eyes. She made no attempt to stop him when Peter brushed his hand across her shoulder and settled his fingers against the back of her neck.

"A brand…" he hissed, trying desperately to contain his anger. "Who did this to you? I swear by the Lion, whoever did this to you will pay dearly for it."

Amelia looked up at him, startled. "You think someone forced a brand on me?"

Peter stared down at her, his mouth agape. "You were branded _voluntarily_?"

She turned around and bent her head to show him. "Peter, this is the sign that I am an Angel. Deirdre gave them to me when I got my wings… I mean, this _is_ getting my wings. It means you're a full-fledged healer. You get them when you graduate your apprenticeship." There was, indeed, the scar from a brand on her neck, in the shape of two small outstretched wings.

There was a pause while Peter absorbed this information. "But… why?" he choked out.

Amelia shrugged, turning back to face him. "A healer must also know pain. Helping someone often means hurting them. It hurts you to walk, but you have to in order to get better. We have to understand what pain is. It's a reminder that our patients are in pain and we can only ask so much of them. We have to become patients ourselves in order to understand what they're going through."

Peter touched the back of her neck again. "It's… barbaric. I'd never want to hurt you just to prove a point."

"But it's more than that. It's a tradition and a symbol of who we are. Deirdre says I should be proud of it. And I am."

Peter didn't quite believe her. "Then why do you hide it?"

Amelia smiled sadly. "I once had a patient refuse to let me touch him because he saw the brand on my neck and was convinced I was a witch. He died. I could have helped him if I had just worn my hair down that day. Seems a simple thing, but it made all the difference in the world. I always wear it down now, so it feels a little… unusual when I wear it up like this."

He shook his head, "No, why do you hide it from _me_? Don't try to tell me that you weren't trying to keep me from seeing it."

She shrugged, looking bashful. "I knew you wouldn't like it."

"You thought you could keep this from me forever?" he asked incredulously.

Amelia looked back up at him again, her eyes wide. A small smile played across her lips. She turned and leaned out over the railing, looking up at the stars. Her smile grew. "No, I suppose not."

"What did I say?" Peter asked, bewildered but a little smug.

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

"Clearly that was the right thing to say, because now you're grinning like a maniac, but I don't understand why," Peter answered, leaning with his back against the railing and looking curiously at Amelia.

She flashed another grin at him and stepped away from the edge of the balcony. She started to walk back into the great hall, but when she reached the door, she turned to face him one last time.

"You said forever."

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Ahhhhh! I'm such a sucker for sappiness. But I can't help it. It makes me giggle every time I read the last line....sigh.... well, you know the drill! Click the pretty button and review! Even just a couple words. Makes my day :)


	7. Ride

**Chapter 7 – The Ride**

The next day was beautiful and sunny, and found Peter looking longingly out the window.

"You wanted to go for a walk, didn't you?" Amelia asked casually.

Peter nodded. "I know I should rest after the ball last night, but a walk couldn't hurt."

"It most certainly could!" Amelia admonished him.

Peter's face fell considerably.

Amelia giggled and grinned impishly. "Though, I don't suppose a _ride _could hurt much…"

"Horseback riding?!" Peter asked, sitting up.

"Come, my King, let us go find your royal siblings and we'll take advantage of this wonderful weather," Amelia said, smiling and offering him a hand up.

Peter took it gratefully and got to his feet, letting Amelia lead him across the room and down the hall. He noticed that she never let go of his hand.

"SUSAN! LUCY! EDMUND!" she cried, "Peter's up! Let's go riding!"

It took only an instant for them to arrive once they heard Amelia's shouting. Lucy arrived first, almost sliding into the wall in her slippers. Susan was next, already dressed for riding. Edmund stumbled into the hall shortly after, looking like he'd been asleep.

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Farheart was snorting impatiently as she and Amelia waited for the others at the edge of the forest. "He's late, Amelia," she said. "I don't know what you see in him."

Amelia blinked. "What? See in who?"

"The King, honey. Who else would I be talking about?"

Amelia flushed. "What? I don't know what you're talking about."

Farheart snorted, tossing her head. "You know what I'm talking about. You spend all your time with him."

"He's my _patient_. I have to."

"You've never spent this kind of time with any patient before. He's not even sick anymore and you still rarely leave his side. Or he yours, for that matter," Farheart answered, a note of amusement in her voice. She snorted again. "Okay, so maybe I _do_ understand what you see in him. As long as he treats you right, my dear."

"Farheart! Are you suggesting that I'm interested in the King of Narnia?!"

"Have I not made myself clear already?"

The others were approaching. Amelia waved to them, grinning. "You so much as whisper a word to any of them, and you'll get no sugar lumps for a month."

Farheart whinnied, stomping her foot. "Alright, alright. Grumpy, aren't we?"

"Hush!" Amelia ordered, looking up at Edmund, who reached her first. "You'll have to lead," she said. "I'm not familiar with the land around Cair Paravel."

Edmund laughed. "It's pretty difficult to get lost. The castle is visible from almost anywhere for miles around."

When the others reached them, they began their ride, chatting happily. And, true to her word, Farheart kept her mouth shut (though it was usually full anyways, as Lucy kept sneaking her treats in a very un-sneaky manner).

Peter was obviously relishing the chance to be outside. Amelia made a mental note to come out with him more often; it was clearly doing him good.

They were following a small path through the forest. Autumn was on its way; some of the leaves had already begun turning. The forest floor was covered in leaves of autumns past, crunching under the hooves of the horses. Then, unexpectedly, there was a loud crunch and thud, and Peter's horse went bolting ahead of the group. Without Peter.

Farheart reacted instantly, rearing and wheeling to face Peter, who was lying on his back on the ground, his saddle a few feet away from him. She was standing over him and Amelia was kneeling next to him before any of the others even had the chance to turn around.

"Are you alright?" Amelia asked, pinching his fingertips.

"Yes, ouch, what are you doing?" Peter asked, squinting up at her.

Amelia grinned. "Sorry, I'm just making sure you haven't broken your back. Wiggle your toes," she ordered, squeezing the tip of his boot with her hand.

Peter did as he was told, rolling his eyes. "Wouldn't I be in more pain if I'd broken my back?"

"Probably, but it could be that the shock of it delayed the sensation. Besides, it's a moot point; you haven't broken your back," she answered.

Edmund reached them first. "That was impressive, Amelia," he said, nodding with approval. "I've never seen anyone react that fast."

Amelia shrugged. "Thanks, but it was Farheart, mostly. She's trained to pick up on the sound of someone hitting the ground. She can hear it over the noise of battle and bring me to anyone who's been injured."

Susan had gone to get Peter's saddle. "It's broken," she called, lifting it up to inspect it closer. "There's a big cut in the girth strap."

Peter sighed. "I got caught on a branch a while back, but I didn't think it did that kind of damage. Maybe I should check Arian for injuries," he said, trying to sit up. He barely lifted his head up off the ground. "Okay, I guess _that's_ not going to happen."

Lucy took Arian's reins and led him back to the group. "He's fine, Peter. I'll take him back to the castle," she said, mounting her mare.

Susan mounted her horse as well. "I'll join you. I'd like to bring the saddle back to the stables to see if it can be repaired."

The two were off a moment later.

"Edmund, would you go back to the castle and get Saleema and Katrina for me, please? I'll need help getting Peter back to the castle," Amelia said.

"Of course. I'll come with them so I can show them where you are," Edmund said, mounting Philip and riding back toward Cair Paravel.

By this time, Farheart, having decided that there was no immediate danger posed to Peter, wandered off to a patch of grass poking up through the leaves and began to munch away.

Amelia went from kneeling to sitting cross legged next to the prone King. "You can't sit up at all?"

"I can try again, but it hurts terribly."

Amelia sighed and leaned over Peter, putting her hands on his chest. She began to undo the buttons of his shirt.

Peter flushed. "What are you doing?!"

"I'm going to see if you've done any damage to you stitches," she explained, sounding half exasperated and half amused. She finished unbuttoning his shirt and laid it open, inspecting the stitches still crossing his abdomen. "Mmm, the fall did a little bit of damage, but you should be alright. On a happy note, the stitches can come out soon. Try sitting up again."

Peter pushed himself up into a sitting position, hissing in pain as he did so.

Amelia nodded. "A little bit of skin has been torn, but you'll be okay to stand up in a few minutes."

Just as Peter was settling himself so he could lean back against a tree, Amelia rose to her knees and was about to stand, but something pushed her from behind and she stumbled forward into Peter.

"Farheart!" she scolded, twisting around to glare at the horse.

Farheart made a snuffing noise and returned to chewing on her grass. She twitched her tail, a habit that told Amelia that she was feeling very pleased with herself.

That was when Amelia realized the position she was in. She hand one hand propping herself up against the tree and the other on Peter's shoulder. Both of his arms were around her waist as he'd tried to catch her, though she was perfectly able to hold herself up and he still hadn't let go.

Peter was smirking. "Mischievous horse."

"She's nearly as old as me, but she still acts like a foal," Amelia answered, laughing. She sat back on her heels so that she was at eye level with him.

Peter lifted one hand from Amelia's waist and slipped it under her curtain of hair to press it against the back of her neck. The scar of her burn always felt unusually warm, and Peter's hand was cool against her skin.

"How long ago did it happen?" he asked, trying but failing to hide the strain of anger that was creeping into his voice.

"I was sixteen," she said. "So, four years."

Peter sighed. "I suppose it will fade with age…"

Amelia averted her gaze, flushing and mumbling. When she looked back up at him, Peter's expression demanded an answer for her reaction, and she realized she'd have to explain it eventually.

"It never gets much more faded than it is now. We… well, the memory of pain fades over time, just as a scar does. It… must be refreshed."

Peter's entire body went tense with anger. His eyes were flashing. "…What?"

Amelia looked down, wringing her wrists. "We… well, we get our wings when we are sixteen. We're rebranded again every five years thereafter. So, I'm due for another next year." She lifted her eyes again, looking contrite. "Please, don't be angry."

Peter clenched his eyes shut. "I'm trying. It's difficult." He took a few deep breaths and opened his eyes again. "I don't understand. Why do you hurt yourself like that, Amelia?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but Edmund's voice could be heard through the trees. "Over there! There's Princess Amelia's horse!"

Amelia pushed herself to her feet and out of Peter's arms, brushing the leaves and twigs from her clothes. "Can you stand now, Peter?"

Peter tried to push himself to his feet, but to no avail.

"It's alright," Amelia said, "you can ride Farheart back to Cair Paravel. I just need the others to help me lift you into her saddle."

Peter scowled and tried to get to his feet again. "I don't need to be _lifted_. I can get into the saddle myself," he said, struggling to push himself all the way up.

Amelia smiled, pushing gently down on his shoulders so he would sit back down again. "It's alright to need someone to help you. You're injured. There's no reason to be ashamed."

Peter frowned. "No, not in front of you and your Angels, but Ed's never going to let me hear the end of this."

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Grr, this one ended up being a filler chapter. I promise next chapter makes up for it though!! It's SUPER TWIST CHAPTER! ….ahem.... reviews please :)


	8. Dreams

So I'm never reading FFnet reviews at work again... you guys are hilarious and I burst out laughing in my little cubicle, which made my boss suspicious :P But seriously, you guys are totally awesome... especially o0FearMe0o's comment about sponge baths XD

Now, for the super twist. You guys are gonna love this :) I'm so excited to hear what you think!

**Chapter 8 – Dreams**

Adrianna insisted that she take her Hunters out into the wild for a little while; she needed to get away from the castle. They returned a week later, bringing a prize boar back with them.

Edmund greeted Adrianna at the entrance to the castle. "That will make a delicious meal, princess. I'll tell the kitchen staff to start preparing for a feast immediately!"

"No, no, your Majesty! I must insist that we cook our catch ourselves. Let us serve you. As thanks for your kindness and friendship," Adrianna answered, glowing with pride.

Edmund raised an eyebrow. "Alright, if that's what you'd like."

"Wonderful! Don't worry about anything for dinner tonight. I'll go find Amelia and tell her to bring her Angels to help prepare the meal."

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"Smells delicious!" Amelia announced, walking into the kitchen and rolling up her sleeves. "No one can hunt quite like you, Addy. I can only imagine the kind of fight this boy must have given you," she said, grinning at her sister and patting the flank of the boar.

"The very best kind," Adrianna answered, grinning widely. She'd returned from the hunt much more relaxed; she'd clearly needed the time outdoors, alone with her Hunters.

Amelia laughed and turned around to face an older pair, a female Hunter and a male Angel, who were chopping vegetables. "How's the soup coming along?" she asked.

The woman turned around and winked. "Nearly there, darlin', nearly there!"

Just then, a young servant girl poked her head into the kitchen. "Princess Amelia? The High King is asking for you. He's not well. You'll find him in the royal chambers."

Amelia nodded and turned to Adrianna. "You can keep an eye on things here?"

"Of course! Go help your King, Amelia."

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When Amelia reached Peter's room, she found that he wasn't there. Confused, and more than a little worried, she nearly ran into Lucy as she ran down the stairs.

"Oh! Lucy, good, do you know where Peter is?"

Lucy blinked owlishly at her. "He's in the hall. He's been there most of the afternoon. He's playing chess with Ed."

"He…is? I was told he wasn't feeling well."

"No, he's fine. At least, he looks fine. He didn't say anything, if there is something wrong," Lucy answered. Then she frowned. "Is there something wrong?"

"Nothing to worry about," Amelia answered, distracted. She passed Lucy and walked the rest of the way down the stairs, trying to remember which servant girl it was who had come to fetch her. She would have liked to ask the girl who sent her to check on Peter, since it obviously wasn't Peter himself.

When she returned to the kitchen, she found most of the meal was prepared; they were simply getting ready to serve it. Several Angels carried the main course out, followed by a handful of Hunters and more Angel carrying side dishes and serving plates for the royals. Amelia was following them to the hall where Peter and his siblings were waiting, when someone caught her by the wrist.

"Here ya are! You are most difficult to find, Lady," Saleema said, grinning. "Here's your pouch back. I put the King's medicine in his soup myself."

Amelia stared at her. "His medicine?"

"Sure. Everett gave it to me. Said you wanted me to put it in Peter's soup. Said it would have tasted right nasty if it wasn't masked by the soup's flavor. I think it's sweet that you put such care into making his healin' more pleasant," Saleema said, still smiling.

"I didn't. I never gave Everett any medicine for Peter. He's been healing up just fine on his own," Amelia said slowly.

Saleema shrugged. "Maybe Everett's heard the rumours about the King having troubles sleeping. Maybe he thought he'd help out himself."

Amelia frowned. "He should have spoken to me first. It's not right to interfere with another person's patient. He doesn't know what other things I've been giving Peter. It's true that I haven't been giving him anything, but Everett doesn't know that." She decided to find Everett after dinner and have a frank discussion with him about it.

Amelia and Saleema entered the hall with the last of the Tribes. Deirdre entered just ahead of them.

Peter was already polishing off his soup. Edmund was tucking into a second serving of venison. Lucy was chewing happily away on a roll, which she'd been dipping in her own soup. Susan was crunching thoughtfully on the vegetables.

Peter pushed his soup bowl away and looked hungrily at the venison waiting for him. He cut off a piece, put it in his mouth, and suddenly his face fell. He chewed slowly, wrinkling his nose.

Adrianna, who was sitting near to him, stopped eating to look concernedly at him. "Are you alright, your Majesty? Is there something wrong with the meat?"

Peter shook his head and swallowed. "No, nothing wrong. I'm just suddenly not feeling well. I think perhaps I might excuse myself. I do apologize."

Amelia stood. "I'll see what I can do to help. Saleema, would you join me, please?"

By the time Peter reached the stairs, he was stooped over, groaning in pain.

Amelia and Saleema caught up with him at the bottom of the stairwell.

"Peter! What's wrong?" she asked, placing a gentle hand on his back and leaning over to look him in the face. She noticed that his shirt was damp with sweat.

Peter grimaced. "I'm in so… oh, I'm dizzy…" he muttered, swaying on his feet. He fell over sideways. Amelia tried to catch him, but he fell so that it was awkward for her to carry his weight and the best she could do was slow his fall.

"Saleema, go get help. We won't be able to carry him up the stairs on our own," she ordered, feeling Peter's forehead. He was burning with a fever.

Help arrived and Peter was carried upstairs and placed in his bed. Amelia and Saleema were left alone with him.

"What in the world were these herbs?" Amelia asked, frowning at the pouch that Saleema had given her earlier. "He might have an allergy. Saleema, go find Everett. Ask him what was in the herb pouch."

Saleema was out of the room in a flash.

Amelia stood between her workbench and the bed, watching Peter fretfully. "He could just be overtired…" she murmured. He'd be outside every day for the past week, despite the spill off of his horse. She stood still for a moment more and decided that she hated not doing anything to help, so she busied herself by making tea, though she hadn't decided yet who it was for. As the water boiled, she lifted the pouch again to inspect it. There were only a few pieces of dried herbs at the bottom of the pouch, but they were all easily identifiable by their smell: sage, mint and devil's foot. None of those could have caused this sickness in the King. She sighed, frustrated, and dropped the pouch on her table. She mistook her aim, though, and the pouch landed in her tea water.

"Oh no! Now I have to…" she began to scold herself for her clumsiness, but her voice died when she saw the water. The pouch had turned black, and was leaking what looked like dark blue dye. She knew what could cause this. The herbs had been fine! The _pouch_ was laced with poison! Immediately, Amelia's mind was filled with all of the horrid things she would do to the person who poisoned Peter… but she pushed those out of her mind. They would be dealt with later. For now, thankfully, she knew how to counter the poison. She poked her head out the door and saw the two Angels that had helped her carry Peter up the stairs still milling around in the hall.

"Bring me Bintangor!" she called. The Angels looked up at her, startled. "NOW!" she shrieked, sending them running down the stairs.

Amelia turned her attention to Peter again. In the mean time, some of the poison could be washed out of his system by making him drink a lot of water and sweat it out. She filled a glass with water and sat down on the edge of his bed, pulling his blankets up to cover him.

Peter opened one of his eyes, frowning. "It's so hot…"

"I know," Amelia murmured. "It needs to be hot. It will make you feel better. Drink this," she said, offering him the glass.

Peter took it from her silently and drank. Halfway through finishing the glass, he began to giggle. "Why are you dancing like that?"

Amelia stared at him for a moment, and then her heart dropped. He was hallucinating. The drug was already deep in his system. She _needed_ that antidote.

Saleema returned a moment later, panting. "Everett said--" she began to explain, but Amelia interrupted her.

"Peter's been poisoned. The pouch was laced with it."

Saleema's eyes went wide with horror. "No! Who would poison him?! Who gave that pouch to Everett?"

Before Amelia could send her to find out, the two other Angels returned.

"Here's the herbs you asked for," the taller one said, offering her a handful of dried leaves.

"Thank you," Amelia said, setting at once to work to make the antidote. "Wait outside, in case I need something more."

The Angels nodded and stepped out the door.

Amelia began to crush the herbs and knew immediately that something was wrong. Dried Bintangor was papery and split into thin sheets when crushed. This herb had a different texture completely, and upon closer inspection, Amelia realized why. She let out a growl and turned to stalk out the door and yell at the two Guardians waiting for her.

"If they don't know the herbs, they should have asked an Angel! They brought me the wrong herb!" she growled to Saleema. "This is foxglove! It would have sealed his death. There would have been _nothing_ I could do…" She paused in front of the door and a new thought dawned on her. Apparently Saleema had thought of it too, since her face showed the same terrified expression.

"It was intentional," Saleema breathed. "Someone in the Tribes is tryin' ta kill the King."

Amelia turned back to face Peter, who was moaning now, begging some invisible tormentor to leave him alone. "Find Peter's siblings. Warn them. Then, bring me Bintangor. It is dark green with leaves shaped like spades. Most of them will be crushed; they're very fragile in their dried state. They smell like wet earth," she ordered.

Saleema looked panicked. "There's a hundred herbs that look like that! It could be any!"

Amelia turned back to Saleema, looking desperate. "Then bring me all of them! Get as many as you can carry, and then go back for more!"

Saleema went to leave the room, but Amelia caught her sleeve.

"Whatever you do, _don't_ attract attention. They can't know that we know."

Saleema nodded and hurried out the door.

Amelia turned to face Peter again, and found that he was pushing his blankets back down off of him, moaning. She dipped a cloth in water and went to sit on the bed next to him, pulling the blankets back up. She noticed that his clothes were already damp; that was a good sign. The more poison that could be flushed out by sweat, the easier it would be to ensure the antidote was effective. Once she got her hands on it, that is.

Peter scowled. "It's too hot..."

Amelia folded the wet cloth and placed it over his forehead. "I know, Peter, I know. This will help, but you must stay covered." She left him on the bed and went searching for a bucket. His body would be trying any method to get the poison out and his stomach would soon be emptied. Indeed, no sooner had she returned to the bed with it than Peter grabbed it out of her hands and began to wretch painfully.

Peter let out a cry of pain, looking up at Amelia with tear-glazed eyes. "It burns!" he hissed.

Amelia wanted to cry for him. The poison was heavily acidic; his stomach and throat would feel like fire until he could empty himself. Then, Amelia could give him something to soothe the burns but until then, it would be useless to give him anything unless she intended to prolong his pain.

When he finished, Peter lay on his side, holding his throat and blinking back tears.

Amelia was waiting for him with an oily solution. "Drink," she whispered, lifting the glass to his lips. He took a sip and swallowed, as if testing a fine wine. Then, he sat up and took the glass from her hands, gulping it down greedily.

"Mmmm... soup..." he said, grinning like a drunk. He began an animated conversation with some invisible person in front of him. He was obviously hallucinating again.

Amelia touched his shoulders and guided him back down to his pillows. She smiled sadly, listening to his half of the conversation. At least he was having good dreams.

-----------------------------------

The next hour was achingly slow and painful. Peter never stopped hallucinating, though he often fell into waking nightmares.

Amelia had finally broken. There was nothing she could do but be there to soothe him when the dark things in his mind came out to torment him. She simply sat on his bed, wetting the cool cloth for his forehead every so often, and crying to herself.

Saleema had returned once. She'd found all of Peter's siblings; they were all gathered in Susan's room with their most trusted advisors, as well as a few of the most loyal soldiers of the Narnian army. Word was begin sent through the barracks of the rest of the army, and though the soldiers continued to mill about playing cards and dice as they always did at night, each had a weapon hidden somewhere nearby and each was ready to jump at the first sign of trouble.

She hadn't, however, been able to get the antidote. An Angel who was also working with the stores of herbs in the kitchen had grown suspicious as Saleema had tried to grab as many of the leaves of the right shape as possible, and shooed her out. What she had brought back was useful – it could be used to slow the spread of most poisons – but she'd not gotten the antidote. She'd left a while ago to try to get it again, but hadn't yet returned.

If she didn't come back soon, Peter would be beyond aid.

Amelia wiped her face with the back of her hand. She pushed the bangs plastered to Peter's skin back out of his face and lifted the cloth to dip it in the cool bowl of water sitting next to the bed.

"Amelia?" Peter's hoarse voice asked.

She looked up instantly, dropping the cloth. Peter hadn't come out of his hallucinations for nearly an hour. She'd thought the poison was further along than perhaps it was, if he could recognize her still.

"How are you feeling, Peter?" she asked cautiously.

Peter lifted a trembling hand and stroked her tear-streaked face. "Why are you crying?"

It was a simple, honest question, but it was all it took to make the tears begin spilling out of Amelia's eyes again. "Because you're hurting," she answered.

Peter smiled dreamily. "I'm fine..." he whispered.

Amelia's heart dropped. He was still hallucinating, then. Or, even worse, he was losing feeling in his body. She let out a quiet sob. The wall that was supposed to divide her emotions from her duties as a healer was beginning to fall. "You're not fine, Peter. You're dieing. I wish I could do something. I'd do anything," she cried, taking his face in her hands. She hesitated for a split second, and then she leaned over, pressing her lips to his for a quick moment. "You can't leave me, Peter. Don't die. Just wait, Saleema will be back soon with the antidote, you'll see," she breathed, keeping her forehead pressed against his.

Peter smiled. "I know. You shouldn't cry, angel. Everything will be just fine."

There was a moment of peace and silence in which she actually believed him. The weight of death was lifted from her shoulders, and she truly felt like everything would be alright.

That's when Peter began to cry out that there were skeletons in his bed, and Amelia wrapped her arms around herself and cried until she couldn't anymore.

-----------------------------

Woahhhh so emo. But I like the ending. It's also something of a cliffy :) So? OMG WHO POISONED PETER?! Guess, and tell me who you think it was in your review! Cookies and kudos in the next chapter to anyone who gets it right!


	9. The Trial

**Chapter 9 – The Trial**

When Peter opened his eyes, he found them filled with a painfully bright light, so he wisely chose to close them again. His memories of the previous evening began to return to him, and he realized that he was remembering his dreams. They were vast and strange, in sometimes wonderful and other times terrible ways.

He remembered in particular opening his eyes to the darkness and seeing a pair of green eyes, shining in the scant moonlight in his room. He remembered tracing tear tracks with his hands. He realized the face belonged to Amelia. She was crying. They spoke, though the words were faded and and blurry with his memory. Then she was kissing him. He remembered all of that; he remembered exactly how it felt to have her mouth on his. He remembered, too the way her breath felt against his lips as she spoke afterwards. Then, she was gone, and there were skeletons. _What an unfortunate turn of events, _Peter thought, frowning. He quite enjoyed kissing Amelia. Skeletons were not nearly so much fun.

"Peter?"

He opened his eyes again, and this time he could see Lucy standing over him, looking worried.

"I'm dreaming, Lucy, leave me alone." He was going to close his eyes again, but he'd never seen his sister look quite so happy in all his life, and he wondered why.

"Peter! You're alright! Oh thank Aslan!" she cried, throwing herself on him.

He soon found himself surrounded by his family and closest friends. Except Amelia. She wasn't there.

"Where's Amelia?" he asked groggily, sitting up. His head was throbbing painfully.

"You were poisoned, Peter. By someone in the castle. We're not to leave the room," Susan said.

Peter glowered up at her. "Where's Amelia?" he asked again.

"She left. I imagine she's trying to find the culprit," Edmund explained. "You really should lie down, Peter. You've had a hard night."

Peter could certainly believe that his night had been a difficult one. Most of his body was aching, and he could barely stand to keep his eyes open with the splitting headache he was suffering. He stood up anyways and moved towards the door. He vaguely noticed that he was in Susan's room.

"Where are you going?" Tumnus asked, trying to stand between Peter at the door.

Peter scowled. "To find Amelia. She's the next best target, if all of us are holed up in here. It's not safe for her to be out there. I'm going to find her."

"What are you talking about?" Lucy asked, looking mildly worried. Everyone else just looked annoyed.

"Someone tried to kill me. She's the reason I'm alive. If whoever wants me, or us, dead, tries again, it might be helpful to be rid of the one person who can be counted on to heal us," Peter answered, slightly angry that he'd thought of it and they hadn't, and they'd allowed Amelia to go out and put herself in danger like that.

Understanding dawned on every face in the room. The concept of how truly much danger Amelia had put herself in by helping Peter was sinking in. And Peter used that moment of thought to escape.

Cair Paravel was deserted. There wasn't a soul anywhere. He tried the kitchen first, but it was empty. It was his first sign that something strange was going on. The kitchen was _never_ empty. Even at the wee hours of the morning, someone could be counted on to sneak into the kitchen to steal a midnight snack or wheedle away at the hours of insomnia by the fires. From the sunlight outside, it looked to be near to breakfast time. The kitchen should be full of servants and food.

He wanted to know what was going on. It occurred to him that he was completely unpresentable; he was still dressed in his filthy shirt from the night before. It then occurred to him that didn't matter. He was going to find Amelia and then they'd hide away in Susan's room until it was deemed safe. He could get cleaned up then. He wasn't about to let Amelia come to harm for saving him.

The buzzing of voices could be heard from the great hall. He was making his way inside when he heard the footsteps of a large group coming around a corner towards him. He froze, realizing finally that he himself was exposed and in danger; he wasn't even armed.

Adrianna rounded the corner and came to a full stop, causing the Hunters behind her to nearly run into each other.

"King Peter!" she cried when she found her voice. She ran towards him and dropped to her knees, taking both his hands. "Please, forgive me for all the pain this has caused you. I'm so glad to see that you're alright."

"Forgive you for what?" Peter asked suspiciously.

Adrianna looked ashamed. "I wish I'd been able to see it coming. I should have known, and I should have been able to warn you. It was a massive failure on my part, and I apologize."

Peter was going to ask her to elaborate further, but a booming voice could be heard quieting the crowd in the hall. "The trial will now begin. Amelia of the Western Tribes. You are suspected of attempting regicide. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I didn't!" came Amelia's desperate reply.

Peter took the few long strides left between himself and the doors to the great hall and ripped them open with as much force as he could muster. They slammed into the walls behind him, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

There were five men, fauns and centaurs standing on a platform in the center of the room. There were two lower platforms on either end of the large one. On one of the platforms stood Amelia, with two armed guards standing behind her. She was a mess; she hadn't gotten any sleep the night before, nor had she changed since caring for Peter. Her hair was unkempt and her face was still dirty and tear streaked. On the other platform was Deirdre, looking righteous. The rest of the room was filled with Narnian citizens of all shapes and sizes.

"What _exactly_ is going on here?!" Peter demanded.

"Princess Amelia has been accused to trying to kill you, your Majesty," said the old faun who was clearly leading the trial's proceedings.

"What?!" Peter demanded, his voice cracking.

"She laced your dinner with poison, your Majesty!" Deirdre accused, looking across the room to her adopted daughter. "How could you, Amelia?" she asked, sounding suddenly distraught.

Tears began to fall down Amelia's cheeks again. "I didn't! I would never!" She turned to look desperately at Peter. "Please, believe me!"

The faun looked towards Amelia. "If you didn't, then tell us who did."

Amelia let out a sob. "I told you, I don't know! But I didn't give anyone a pouch laced with poison to put in the soup! And everyone who was in the kitchen at the time can tell you that I wasn't there when the soup was poisoned."

The faun shook his head. "I'm sorry, princess, but unless you can give us some idea of who did it, you remain the most likely culprit."

"This is ridiculous!" Peter bellowed.

"I know who did it," came a voice from the doorway. Peter turned around to see Adrianna standing there, looking mildly sick. "I can't believe I've been forced to choose between my sister and my mother."

Deirdre glared at her daughter. "Blood is thicker than water," she hissed.

"It was Deirdre. My mother. This was her plan. She wanted to put Amelia on the throne of Narnia. She wanted to poison King Peter, and then Amelia would try to save him, but when she couldn't, she would do the next best thing for her country by taking his place as its leader," Adrianna said, hardening her gaze as she looked at Deirdre. She turned to face Amelia and her expression softened. "I'm sorry I didn't come back and straighten this out sooner. I never imagined she'd try to frame you." She turned her attention back to the council. "Amelia isn't my blood sister; she's a Daughter of Eve. She'd been primed for taking the throne of Narnia since we found her. We thought she was the first of the four who would fulfill prophecy. Instead, our current Kings and Queens were crowned. Once that happened, my mother told us that we would watch from the forest, see whether these new leaders were good for Narnia, and when they turned out to be wise and just, we decided to enter into allegiance with them. I thought my mother had forgotten her dreams of putting Amelia on the throne. Instead, she changed her plan and tried to kill King Peter last night. She came to me and told me that if the poison didn't work, if Amelia managed to get her hands on the antidote in time, I was to kill him myself. I was furious and terrified that my own mother would commit such treachery, so I gathered all those Tribesmembers who were still loyal to the crown of Narnia and we escaped Cair Paravel. It was a decision made out of fear; I realize now that we should have stayed to defend our Kings and Queens, but perhaps providing you with the truth can allow you to forgive my lapse in judgment."

There was silence. Deirdre was getting progressively redder in the face. "How dare you! You'd side with this murderer rather than your own mother!" she shrieked, leaping across the hall and running at Adrianna.

It was Amelia who reacted first. She leaped only an instant after Deirdre, out of the reach of her guards, landing almost clean on top of her as she tried to attack Adrianna. The fury in Amelia's eyes when she jumped was terrifying. Both women went tumbling to the ground.

"You! You tried to kill him!" Amelia shouted, sobbing with inexpressible anger. "You frame me and then you attack your own daughter!" She rolled so that she was straddling Deirdre's torso, pinning her arms, and grabbed a handful of her hair, forcing her to look into Amelia's face. "You are not my mother," she hissed. "You are a disgrace to everything that we are." She yanked on the handful of hair, eliciting a cry from Deirdre. "You only fought the Witch to take her place. Narnia means nothing to you."

It was only moments after that that the men stationed to guard Amelia reached them and pulled them apart. Now, only one of them was guarding Amelia; the other was keeping an eye on the furious Deirdre.

All eyes on the room turned to Peter, searching for his reaction to the fight.

"Why was this trial not delayed until myself and my siblings could be a part of the proceedings?" he asked quietly.

The faun bowed his head. "I'm sorry, your Majesty. We weren't sure when you'd wake, and we were afraid of what might happen to you if the culprit was not dealt with immediately."

Peter looked up, his eyes flashing. "And if I'd not interrupted, you could have not only punished the wrong person, but allowed the true attacker another opportunity to make an attempt on my life!"

The faun paused, contemplating something, and then said, "Are you sure that Princess Amelia is innocent, your Majesty? This new revelation that she is a Daughter of Eve only betters Queen Deidre's argument for the Princess's guilt."

"Amelia didn't know she was a Daughter of Eve," Peter answered, exasperated. As if the fight hadn't made it clear enough already where Amelia's loyalties lay. "She put her whole heart and soul into trying to save me. I don't remember much of last night, but what I do remember convinces me that she was trying in earnest to help me. If she wanted me dead, why would she have cared for me so well that her own poison was counteracted?"

There was silence.

"If you're looking for any more proof, it was Amelia's quick thinking that kept the rest of us protected. She sent her guardian to warn us of treachery," Edmund said, walking into the hall, followed by Susan and Lucy.

Lucy, ignoring propriety and the expectations of the court, rushed forward and threw her arms around Amelia. "Let go!" she shouted savagely at the guard, who tried to keep a hold on Amelia's arm as the young Queen tried to hug her. It was becoming clear that the decision had been made; Deidre's expression was turning slowly to one of horror as she realized that the trial had turned on her.

"Guards, keep Queen Deirdre under guard in her room. We will decide on a punishment later," said Peter, suddenly and completely exhausted. He allowed Edmund and Susan to lead him out of the hall. He was ready for a good, long rest.

From just outside the hall, Peter heard Deidre let out a savage shout, and then a cry from Amelia. He spun on his heel in time to see Deirdre drawing a bloody blade from Amelia's arm.

Amelia was twisted at a strange angle, and her weight was thrown precariously far to one side. As she righted herself and twisted back to face forwards, she brought her arm up and swung the heel of her palm into Deirdre's collarbone. She hit the woman with such force that Deirdre's feet lifted the ground and flew backwards into the guard that had been standing just behind her.

Lucy, who hadn't let go of Amelia until the attack, was standing ashen faced directly behind Amelia, staring in shock at the blood pouring out of Amelia's arm.

Deirdre stumbled to her feet, coughing and hacking. She glowered at Amelia, letting the guard take the knife from her.

Amelia shifted her weight, obviously keeping herself directly between Deirdre and Lucy. "You so much as move towards her again and I'll kill you," she spat, her whole body tense. She apparently hadn't yet regained the ability to feel the wound in her arm, as she tensed her hand into a fist.

The two guards each took one of Deirdre's arms and led her out of the room. Even as she was being led out, her eyes never left Amelia's face, and the hatred contained within them was terrifying.

It took Peter a painfully long time to understand Amelia's last words. He gasped when he finally understood: Deirdre hadn't been trying to attack Amelia! The knife had been aimed for Lucy!

A tall male Angel approached Amelia and Lucy. "I'll help you get that bandaged up," he offered, looking at Amelia's wound.

Amelia punched him in the face with her good arm. "You're in league with Deirdre," she accused, her voice deadly quiet as she watched him get to his feet, holding a bloody nose.

"You have no evidence," Everett growled. "I'm innocent. I had nothing to do with this."

"You gave Saleema the poisoned bag to put in Peter's soup. You told her that it was from me," Amelia answered.

Everett shrugged. "And that's what I was told when it was given to me, too."

"He's lying!" a voice cried from within the crowd. The Narnians parted to give way to the small blond serving girl who'd been sent to fetch Amelia. "He told me that his Majesty was sick and asking for Princess Amelia when he really just wanted to get her out of the way!" She turned her eyes to Amelia. "I went to tell him that I passed on the message, but when I found him, he was with Queen Deirdre and he said that you were out of the way. I didn't know what he meant, but it sounded bad, so I went looking for you. I couldn't find you anywhere, m'Lady. You must've already reached his Majesty's room and found that something was amiss when he wasn't there."

"Why didn't you tell someone else, then?" Edmund demanded angrily.

The girl blinked back tears. "I didn't know I should have! I didn't even know if it was a bad thing that they were planning. It's often that the things I hear people talking about when I work sound bad but are innocent as the day is long, Majesty. I didn't know! Honest!" By the time she'd finished talking, she'd started sobbing.

Susan touched the girl's shoulder. "It's alright. You tried your best. There was no way you could have known. But thank you for helping us determine who is dangerous and who is not."

Meanwhile, several soldiers from the crowd had moved towards Everett, and by this time, were standing in a square around him, weapons drawn.

"Take him away," Peter ordered, his eyes on Amelia. "Come on, we need to do something about your arm."

"I'm fine. It's not deep," Amelia answered, waving off his concern. She paused, knitting her eyebrows together. She began to sway.

Peter caught her as her knees gave out.

"Okay," she murmured. "You're right." She had to struggle to keep her eyes open.

Peter lifted her into his arms, taking care to avoid touching her injury.

Amelia nuzzled her head into his shoulder, smiling drunkenly. "Thanks, your Majesty..."

-----------------------------


	10. The Judgment

**Chapter 10 – Judgment**

After Amelia's injury was stitched and bound, Lucy brought Amelia back to her room where she had a maid fill a wide marble tub with hot water. There was a screen set up between the tub and the rest of the room, so while Amelia lay in the bath and scrubbed the dirt and sweat off of herself, Lucy sat on her bed.

"I'm sorry," Lucy said, breaking the long silence.

"It wasn't your fault, Lucy. It wasn't anyone's fault. I'm not sure what Deirdre thinks she would have gained by hurting you, but I'll never let any harm come to you if I can help it, alright?"

"Thank you, but I meant that I'm sorry for the way you were treated. I can't believe they accused you of hurting Peter. We should have been able to stop it before we did. We came too close to not even stopping it at all."

"Of course I don't blame you! I don't even blame the council that accused me. Deirdre has always had a keen ability to make people believe what she wants them to. I'm just glad Peter arrived when he did." There was a small splash and Amelia sighed. "I wish I'd known what she was planning. She never once let on that she wanted me to be a Queen. She never told me. She never even told me that I'm a Daughter of Eve. What's worse, if her plan had worked, she would probably have set everything up perfectly so that I just happened to be the one who ended up taking the empty throne. I never would have known. I trusted her too much."

Lucy was surprised. "You didn't know that you're a Daughter of Eve?"

Amelia shook her head, and then realized that Lucy couldn't see her through the screen. "I didn't know where I was from. I thought I was from Narnia. I thought I was like the rest of the Tribes. They are descended from Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve, but through intermarriage with the creatures of Narnia, they lost that heritage."

"Intermarriage?" Lucy asked slowly.

Amelia smiled at the note of confusion in Lucy's voice. "According to our elders, the Children of Adam and Eve, our ancestors, were siblings. They all took husbands and wives who were Narnian, and most of them were fauns or dryads. According to the stories, one even married a centaur," she said, laughing at as Lucy balked at the last sentence. "For generations, my people have been marrying the magical creatures of Narnia. We no longer have enough of the blood of Adam and Eve in our veins to call ourselves their Children. Except me, apparently."

There was another silence while each thought their own thoughts, and then suddenly, Lucy stood up. "I've forgotten towels for you! Hang on just a moment, I'll be back before you know it!" And with that Lucy hurried out of the room.

There was a knock on the door less than a minute later. Obviously Lucy had been very fast in retrieving her towels.

"Come on in, Lucy."

The door swung open. "Lu?" Peter's voice asked.

"Peter!" Amelia cried, sitting up in the tub and staring at the spot on the screen where she heard his voice coming from.

"Amelia?" he asked, sounding surprised.

"Yes it's me. You shouldn't be in here!"

"You invited me in," Peter answered dubiously.

"I thought you were Lucy!"

Peter laughed. "I must say, that's the first time I've ever been mistaken for Lucy," he said, chuckling.

Amelia frowned. "Oh yes, ha ha ha, have a good laugh while I'm trapped behind the screen in a tub!"

"Were you planning on getting out soon?"

"When Lucy comes back with the towels, yes."

"Then it shouldn't matter if I'm here now; I can't see you and you can't get out of the tub until Lucy comes back anyways," Peter said.

Amelia found Peter's logic annoying, but couldn't deny that it was true.

"Alright, stay if you'd like, then."

"Thank you. Not for letting me stay, for saving me last night," Peter said gravely.

Amelia settled back into the tub, smiling in spite of herself. "Your welcome, of course. Besides, you can consider us even. You saved me this morning."

"They would have discovered that you were innocent eventually," Peter answered adamantly.

Amelia sighed. "I'm not sure if that's true. Deirdre can be very convincing."

"Then I would have told them that you were innocent. It doesn't matter, they can't do anything about criminals until one of myself, Susan, Edmund or Lucy agree to it. One of us would have had you released."

Amelia looked up at the ceiling. "How do you know?"

"Know what?" Peter asked.

"That I'm innocent," Amelia answered quietly.

Peter was shocked into momentary silence. "How could I not believe that you are innocent?!"

"I don't know. What convinced you that I am?"

Peter sighed. "You couldn't hurt anyone. That's just not the way you are."

Amelia laughed without mirth. "Peter, I'm a soldier. I hurt people every time I ride into battle."

"Fine, then at least I don't think you would ever hurt _me_."

Amelia wrapped her arms around herself, feeling suddenly cold. "But why? Of course, you're right, I wouldn't hurt you, but what makes you so convinced that it's true?"

"You took a knife for Lucy!" Peter exclaimed. He would have been amused at the ridiculousness of having to explain it to her, were it not for the grave subject. His answer was met with silence. He sighed. "I also remember parts of last night. You wanted so badly for me to be okay... I can't possibly believe that you would want to cause me harm," Peter said quietly.

Amelia froze, her mind returning to the moment that she'd kissed him. She honestly hadn't thought that he'd survive to remember it. "What do you remember?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

Peter was quiet for a moment, phrasing his words carefully. "I remember seeing you crying over me," he replied finally.

"How do you know you weren't hallucinating?" Amelia asked, wondering if perhaps she could convince him that he'd dreamed her kiss.

Peter smiled to himself, remembering the same moment. The thought _had_ crossed his mind. "It was the only time that I was lucid enough to wonder if I was," he answered finally.

There was quiet between them for several minutes before a soft sobbing could be heard from Amelia.

Peter's face fell. "Amelia? What's wrong?" he asked, confused and concerned. He wondered if he'd done something to upset her.

"My mother... Even though she's not my blood mother, she raised me. She's been the only mother I had for as long as I can remember. She... she tried to kill you..." she said, her voice muffled almost beyond understandability by her tears and the screen.

Peter sat on Lucy's bed, wringing his hands and wishing he could do something to comfort her. He couldn't imagine what he could possibly say to make her feel any better.

"She used me. Now that her plan to put me on the throne has failed, she tried to have me killed... so the only reason I meant anything to her was because I was her means to getting the throne of Narnia." She laughed harshly through her sobs. "I wonder if she would have left me in the snow to die if I hadn't been a Daughter of Eve..."

"Don't say that," Peter answered.

"Why not?" Amelia asked, hugging herself again. "It's true. She probably would have left me there. She's heartless. I'd always turned a blind eye to it, telling myself that life had to be harsh, that we had to survive and sometimes that meant doing things that don't seem right. But she _enjoyed _it. If she'd succeeded... I can't even imagine. Things would have been worse than they were in the winter."

"Amelia..." Peter whispered, his heart aching for her. She didn't deserve this kind of pain. He wished Lucy would hurry up with the towels, because when Lucy returned and found Amelia crying, she'd undoubtedly hug her, wet with bathwater or not. Then, once she was dressed, Peter could hold her until her tears were gone.

"You know what the worst part of all of this is?" she asked quietly. "I know that the sentence for treason is death... but I still love her. She's still my mother. I still don't want her to die. She deserves it. She deserved it a hundred time over. I was even prepared to do it myself for a few moments in the great hall... but I can't bring myself to want to see her die."

"Then she won't," Peter replied easily, surprising himself. He realized in the next few seconds that he was actually willing to give up a just sentence to ease her pain. He was struggling to decide whether that was a good thing or not when she answered.

"You have to. I understand that. But I'd like to go away somewhere when it happens. I need to be far away from here."

"No, Amelia, I promise you, no harm will come to her by my hand or word," Peter vowed.

Amelia wiped her eyes and scowled. "Be serious, Peter. She can't be allowed to try again. She can't be allowed to live. Just because I don't like it doesn't mean I don't understand."

"She'll be exiled. Gone from Narnia. She'll never have a chance to hurt any of us again, and she won't be executed," Peter said, stubbornly refusing to consider any other course of action now that he'd decided.

Amelia was quiet for a few minutes before she answered. "Are you sure?" she asked slowly.

"Completely."

Amelia smiled to herself. "Thank you, Peter."

----------------------------------

The next day, the punishment for the treachery of the Tribes was announced.

Deirdre and every one of her supporters was gathered on one side of the great hall. Adrianna's group was standing off to one side, and the Narnian royalty, along with their advisors, were standing on the opposite side of the hall from Deirdre. Amelia was standing off to the other side, opposite Adrianna, and close to the Narnian group.

It was Peter who spoke. "Queen Deirdre, and all who follow her, have attempted regicide. The penalty for such treason is traditionally death. However, I would not have harm come to you today, if for no other reason than that it would pain those close to me to witness it. Therefore, you are being exiled from Narnia. You are free to go where you please, but if you return, know that such mercy will not be shown again," he said, his voice full of authority and righteous anger.

In silence and without protest, Deirdre and her followers allowed themselves to be escorted from the castle.

Next, Peter turned to Adrianna, his tone changing completely. "You've proved a valuable ally, and the fact that you would stay true to the Narnian crown even as you mother commits treason only deepens that trust. You are welcome to stay at Cair Paravel as long as you wish. Should you chose, you can make this place your home and we would find a suitable place for you and your brethren in our army."

Adrianna smiled. "Thank you, King Peter, for your generous offer. However, I think it's time that we return to our home in the forests."

Peter returned the gracious smile. "Then you are welcome to return here as you please. There will always be a warm place for you to sleep and food for you to eat, as long as you wish it."

"Then we will return some day soon," Adrianna answered.

"Perhaps, before you go, you would honour us with your presence at dinner tonight? We would love to have a final meal in your honour, and to say good bye," Susan offered. "All of you are welcome," she added, referring to all of the Hunters and Angels who stood by Adrianna.

"Thank you, we will." And with that, Adrianna left the room, followed by her Hunters.

Everyone began to disperse then, to begin whatever activities they would pass the afternoon with. Peter found himself out on the balcony, looking out over the rolling hills of Narnia below.

"I suppose this is goodbye, then," said a voice from behind him.

Peter turned. "Goodbye?" he asked. "You know you don't have to leave with your sister. You could stay here."

Amelia shrugged. "I feel like I've imposed on your hospitality for too long."

"Hospitality? I'm not giving you the choice because it's the hospitable thing to do," Peter answered, offended.

"I can't stay here as your guest forever," Amelia told him.

"You can be a palace healer," Peter offered immediately.

Amelia grinned. "How often are people hurt here that a little salve or rest couldn't heal? Adrianna will need me far more."

Peter touched her shoulders, his face suddenly serious. "Alright, then, I'll be completely honest. I'm asking you to stay, Amelia. For no other reason than I want to have you here with me. I can't force you to stay, but I'm asking you to."

Amelia smiled, lifting her hands and placing them over his. "Then I'll stay. For no other reason than I like being here with you."

--------------------------------------

Hurrah!! All is good now :) I suppose I should have given more time to guess who the culprit was, but I'm getting way behind on posting... I have a bunch of chapter written and backlogged for posting. I'll probably be doing a once or even twice a day posting for the next while until I can get caught up.

Now, I have another question. How far do you want Amelia and Peter to go? I don't imagine I could possibly be spoiling the story by asking, I think it's pretty clear where this is going :P ANYWAYS! How graphic do you want this to get, my dear readers? I'm not comfortable with or good at writing literary porn, but I am willing to get pretty explicit if that's what you're interested in. Or, alternatively, I can stick with the implication method when it comes to writing adult scenes. Let me know what you guys want to see :) I promise that whatever happens, it won't change the story arc even a little bit. And it won't be happening for a while yet, so take your time to decide.

And o0oFearMeo0o will have her bath (eventually)... lol, that still just kills me XD If you don't know what I'm talking about, go read her reviews for chapters 7 and 8. So funny!!


	11. Midnight Swim

**Chapter 11 – Midnight Swim**

It took several more weeks for Peter to heal completely of both the poisoning and the injury. Once he did, however, life suddenly seemed more active for everyone. The royals suddenly didn't feel tied to the castle any longer, and started taking long hikes into the forest, searching for dryads and faun dances. Amelia almost always joined them, as did Tumnus (though this had been usual habit for years).

One month to the day after Peter's poisoning, it was decided that a trip to Beaversdam would do them a world of good. Since the end of the Winter, it was becoming a bustling center of trade, and if you were lucky, traders from as far north as the River Shribble and as far south as Anvard or even Calormen would be there.

Susan and Lucy were ecstatic at the prospect of taking Amelia shopping. The only clothes she'd ever owned were the ones that could be carried with her, because the Tribes were nomadic people. Since she'd arrived in Cair Paravel, she'd been wearing mostly Susan's old clothes. Now that Amelia would be staying with them, they felt it necessary to buy her a wardrobe of her own.

Amelia found the shopping more exhausting than the trip itself. She'd never been to Beaversdam on a market day (or any other place like it, for that matter) and the sheer number of different sights and sounds and smells overwhelmed her.

Susan and Lucy obviously had their favourite dress shops, and they spent most of the day in only three shops, getting Amelia fitted for new clothes.

"We'll need several of each style," Susan was telling the seamstress.

"The poor girl must have no clothes!" the woman exclaimed when she realized just how much Susan was asking for.

Lucy laughed. "She only has what she can carry. And most of it is armor." She turned on her heel and began to look through the different fabrics that were laid out on the couch behind her. "She looks wonderful in green, and I think this red would suit her well," she said, lifting the sheet of red fabric and hanging it between herself and Amelia.

Susan nodded. "The red would do nicely. We'll want mostly winter clothes. We'll be back in the spring for her summer things."

Amelia's jaw dropped. "Susan! You can't possibly buy me more clothes than you already are!"

Susan clicked her tongue and shook her head. "You are a member of our court and you will be properly provided for, and that means clothing too! Oh! And Miss Day, we'll be needing something for her to wear when she works; she's a healer, you see. Obviously these clothes wouldn't do."

Miss Day, the seamstress, nodded her head vigorously. "Of course, your Majesty. Let me just see what I have for some sturdier fabrics." She disappeared through the shelves of cloth rolls.

Amelia, who had been standing on a stool in front of a mirror for the entire morning, jumped off and sat down. "Goodness, Susan, you want me to do this again in six months? I think it might just take me six months to recover from this shopping excursion!"

Lucy nodded knowingly. "Shopping is very tiring. But think how nice it will be to have clothes that fit you properly!"

Amelia nodded begrudgingly. It _was_ true that most of Susan's dresses had sleeves that were too long for her, and waists that fell just slightly too low. It would be nice not to have to tug on the dress to get it to sit properly all of the time.

At the end of the day, Miss Day sent them home with new underthings for Amelia and the promise that she'd have at least one of the dresses delivered to them by the following morning so Amelia would have something to wear the next day.

The royals were staying at the summer home of the lord of Beaversdam, despite it being autumn. He had tried to convince them to stay in his winter lodgings, to the south of the town, but they'd insisted on the summer house; it was situated on the water, with its own private beach. It wasn't exactly on the river; instead, there was a pool fed by a stream that came off the river.

Lucy had discovered that, on a sunny day, even in late autumn, the sun would warm the pool so well that it was like bathwater just after dark.

The girls were getting ready for bed when Lucy decided to bring this up. "It's quite lovely. Maybe a quick dip is in order before bed?"

Susan and Amelia both agreed wholeheartedly, and, wearing nothing but their shifts, they sneaked down the hall and down the stairs, and out the back door onto the beach.

The breeze was chilly, as was the sand, so they made their way quickly towards the water. It was steaming in the moonlight.

Lucy waded right in, having done it before, but Susan and Amelia both paused before stepping in, both half expecting it to be freezing, as the river would be.

"Come on!" Lucy whispered, glancing conspiratorially up at the wide open windows that she knew looked into the bedrooms. The summer house was small for six people; it was only built for the lord and his wife; they'd never had any children. There were only two bedrooms, so the women were sharing one, and the men had the other.

Amelia looked up once at the windows. There was a candle burning in the men's room, but she couldn't see anyone.

Susan, meanwhile, was dipping her toe into the water. "It _is_ warm!" she exclaimed.

Lucy laughed. "I told you so! Now come in!"

Susan grinned and ran into the water, raising huge splash that splattered Amelia.

"Hey!" Amelia cried, looking down at her brand new, soaking wet shift. It was white.

Lucy noticed the effect that the water was having on the opacity of Amelia's clothes. "For the sake of decency, Amelia! They could look out the window at any moment!" she called, laughing.

Amelia grinned. "Then I supposed I have no choice." She splashed into the water up to her knees and then dove forward, gliding along the surface of the water. "This is beautiful!" she exclaimed, lifting her hand out of the water and watching the steam rise off of it.

The pool never got particularly deep, but at the center, none of the girls could touch the bottom, so they simply let themselves float in the warmth and the moonlight.

---------------------------------------

Peter, Edmund and Tumnus were all sitting in their room, a few candles burning, playing cards.

"I haven't played anything like this in years," Peter said, inspecting his hand. He grinned. "It's a nice change from chess."

Edmund glowered at him from over the top of his own cards. "That's because chess requires a certain measure of skill. This game is all about luck, which you seem to have plenty of."

"King Edmund, I believe the point of this game is to trick your opponents into believing you have something in your hand that you don't," Tumnus said, chuckling. "You may have just made it very clear what kind of hand you have."

Edmund raised one eyebrow. "Or was that simply a ploy to make you _think_ I have a particular kind of hand?"

"Touche."

They each set their hands down on the table.

Peter grinned. "I win again."

Edmund sighed. "You were right, Tumnus. I had a horrid hand... just like I did last time, and the time before, and the time before that..."

Tumnus was about to reply when there was a shriek and laughter from outside the open window. The two men and one faun looked curiously at each other and went to the window to see what all the fuss was about.

Peter leaned over the edge of the window sill and looked down on time to see Amelia gliding across the water towards Susan and Lucy. He straightened up and leaned against the window frame, smiling as he watched them.

Edmund and Tumnus joined him, looking out over the window sill in turn.

"Wouldn't that be cold?" Edmund asked, bewildered.

As if in reply, Amelia's laughing voice cried, "This is beautiful!"

Peter smiled indulgently, watching as the girls splashed and played.

"Peter," Edmund said, trying to get his brother's attention. He raised an eyebrow at Tumnus when the High King didn't respond.

"Your Majesty?" Tumnus asked. Peter still didn't respond.

Edmund snickered. "Oh, I get it. He's far too enthralled in the view to pay any attention to us," he said, chuckling when he saw Lucy shriek because her shift was floating up around her middle and try to push it back down again. "I don't think he's ever seen Amelia with so few clothes on."

Peter glared at him. "Don't be crude, Ed."

"Perhaps," Tumnus said slowly, "it wouldn't be crude if she was yours..."

Peter blinked cluelessly at him. "What?"

"What I'm saying, your Majesty, is that it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. And perhaps an heir to the Narnian throne could offer the land considerable stability in the future," Tumnus answered, walking over his his bed as he spoke.

"A wife?!" Peter choked, surprised. He wasn't adverse to the idea of getting married; he'd just never considered it before.

Edmund strolled away from the window and sat down on his bed, blowing out his candle and laughing. "Good night, Peter."

And Peter was left in the dark by the window, struggling what understanding the things that were just said to him and why in the world his companions had said them. Experimentally, he considered the idea of life with Amelia as his wife. He couldn't contain his smile as he thought of it. His happiness was dampened almost immediately by worry, however. He wasn't sure if that was what she would want. It wouldn't have surprised him in the least if she didn't want all the responsibility that comes with being a Queen, but even worse, he had no idea if she wanted him at all in that way. Part of him said that she would undoubtedly want him – he was the High King, after all – but most of him realized that she didn't treat him like a King, she just treated him like Peter. That was why she could reject him, and it scared him, but it was also why he loved her, which quite possibly scared him more.

----------------------------

Ack! So short :( But it's because I added stuff to last chapter (which this was supposed to be stuck to the end of) and I decided to separate it into pieces. This piece ended up being way short, but that's okay, because I'm posting SUPER FAST!!

Also, I know, the Jane Austen reference is random, but I personally don't think I could say it better myself, so I used that quote. Besides, I like Pride and Prejudice. If you haven't read it, go do it. Now! Wait, no, review first... then read it!


	12. Morning

**Chapter 12 – Morning**

Since the royals returned to Cair Paravel, Peter started showing up to breakfast late with soaking wet hair and mysterious cuts and bruises. Amelia found that she worried about it far more than she should.

Amelia woke before dawn one morning to a loud shout from outside the window. Groggy and surprised, she rolled out of bed and peered out her window. There was a figure lying on the ground in the shadows in the courtyard below. She sighed and pulled on a pair of breeches and a large, thick woolen shirt and padded through the halls and down the stairs to see who was outside.

When she reached the courtyard, the air was pink with pre-dawn light. The figure was missing. She scowled and was about to go back inside when she heard something whistling through the air. Not far from where the figure had been originally, someone was practicing with a long sword. She realized that it was Peter.

Never in her life had she seen anyone move like Peter was. There was speed, strength and grace within him that she'd never seen; for as long as she'd known him, it had been hidden by his injuries. There was an extraordinary beauty about the way he moved, silent and dangerous.

Amelia stood, gaping unabashedly at him. She giggled when he stumbled to a stop once he realized that she was watching.

"Good morning," he greeted, looking embarrassed.

"Morning. Do you do this every morning?" Amelia asked, stepping out into the center of the courtyard.

Peter nodded. "Every morning since I've been able to move like that without collapsing," he admitted. He swung Rhindon idly. "I haven't been able to move like this in months."

"I'm sorry," Amelia said, frowning sadly.

Peter laughed. "Sorry? It's not your fault," he answered. His took a step towards her. "In fact, you're the only reason I had any hope of moving like this ever again."

Amelia smiled. "Believe me, it has far more to do with how strong _you_ are than anything I did. But thank you." She spied a collection of wooden swords sitting underneath one of the trees. "What are those?"

Peter walked with Amelia over to the swords. "Practicing with Rhindon is good, but I need to practice with swords of all different sizes." He grinned sheepishly. "These are also the swords I use when I plan on trying something stupid. It doesn't hurt nearly so badly when I hit myself with one of these."

Amelia laughed and picked one up, holding it out and poking Peter in the chest with it. "Spar with me," she said, her eyes dancing with mischief.

Peter looked surprised, but a grin began to spread across his face. His pick up another sword and sheathed Rhindon, leaning it against the tree. "Traditional rules of the duel," he answered, tossing the sword through the air a few times.

Amelia nodded. "Ready?" she asked, bending her knees and sinking low into her fighting stance.

Peter nodded, widening his own stance. "Ready."

"I'm not going to go easy on you," Amelia said, beginning to circle slowly.

Peter grinned haughtily. "Good. You won't be able to afford to if you want any hope of winning."

"Oh really?" Amelia asked, laughing. She slashed experimentally at him. "I'm not going to fall for that, by the way. You won't taunt me into attacking you when you want me to."

Peter shrugged and then lunged, stabbing at her chest. "I suppose at least I tried," he answered as Amelia countered his attack easily.

They circled each other, teasing and taunting, exchanging blows, for some time before anything happened.

"Wimp!" Amelia cried, grinning.

Peter started to laugh and let his guard down, and that's when she struck. They were suddenly locked in close combat for a few moments before Peter's extra size and power gave him the advantage. He forced Amelia to back pedal, and when her back was up against the wall, the fight was over. Peter disarmed her quickly and touched his sword to her shoulder.

"I win," he whispered, gasping for breath.

"Well played," Amelia replied, breathing just as hard.

Peter tossed his wooden sword over his shoulder towards Amelia's and leaned forward against the wall with his hands above Amelia's shoulders. "We should do this again. I quite enjoyed that."

"Now?" Amelia asked incredulously.

Peter laughed. "No, not now, some other morning. Like tomorrow."

"I'd like that. If I can convince myself to wake up this early again."

They lapsed into silence as they tried to regain their breaths.

Peter hung his head forward, tired but pleased. When he looked up at Amelia again, he realized just how close they were. He couldn't help but recall her kiss; it was a faded memory, but he was high with adrenaline at just the thought of it. He wondered idly what the effect would be if he had a clear, sober memory of kissing her.

Amelia shut her eyes, trying to calm her erratic heartbeat. Something deep in her mind told her that it was ridiculous that her body react so violently to such a short sparring match; certainly she'd endured worse. Gentle fingers tilted her face up and cradled the back of her head, drawing her softly forward. Her heart rate increased, and all at once she realized that the state of her mind and body had nothing whatsoever to do with sparring. Cool breath touched her face for a moment before warm lips found hers. Her heart all but stopped.

Peter wound one arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. She radiated heat in the cool morning air. He felt enveloped in it. He smiled against her lips when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pushing herself up on her tip toes to be closer to him.

"Peter!" Edmund's voice called from somewhere on the castle grounds.

Peter reluctantly broke the kiss and looked around. Edmund was nowhere to be seen; at least that meant that he couldn't see them either. He looked down at Amelia, vexed at the interruption. "Duty calls, I suppose."

Amelia shrugged. Her lips were numb and the thunder in her ears hadn't yet settled. "My king's work is never done," she said, pulling Peter back into another lingering kiss.

"PETER!" Edmund shouted. His voice was coming closer.

Peter sighed. "I really should go... Ed will have my have my head if I avoid him."

"I know, you should go," Amelia agreed, untangling herself from Peter's arms. As he turned to leave, she grabbed his sleeve. "Just promise you'll explain yourself later," she added.

Peter nodded, smiling. "Of course," he whispered, planting a last, quick kiss on her lips before he ran off to find Edmund.

Amelia sat down on the damp grass and watched the sun come up, letting her mind wander and finally go blank. She started out of her trance when she rested her hand on a surprisingly painful spot on her leg, and she realized why Peter was always showing up to breakfast with wet hair; she would need to wash herself up before she would be at all presentable. Her hair was a mess and a set of tender bruises were sprouting up all over her body. There was a spot of blood forming on the sleeve of her shirt. At some point or another, she'd blocked a blow with her forearm and it must have broken her skin.

She stood up slowly, being cautious of her tender body. She'd been hit more times than she'd realized. She took her time returning to her room, knowing that she'd be late for breakfast, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. At that point, all she wanted was a good, hot bath. And maybe another kiss.

-------------------------------------------

When Amelia finally found the willpower to pull herself out of the steaming water, she wrapped a towel around herself and found a box sitting on her bed. A maid must have brought it in while she was in the bath. The box contained two more of her new dresses. She already had several; as promised, one had arrived the morning after the fitting, and then at least one per day after that until they left Beaversdam. _It's a wonder Miss Day could create a dress of such high quality so quickly_, Amelia mused as she bound her arm and dressed herself in a blue velvet dress. She ignored her hair, letting it fall in loose, wet ringlets over her shoulders.

When Amelia arrived in the hall for breakfast, the others had already gathered and had started eating. She was even later than Peter.

"Good morning!" she greeted, sitting between Susan and Peter.

Tumnus, chewing on a celery stick, smiled. "Good morning!" His face became concerned. "Are you alright? What happened to your arm?"

Amelia looked down and realized that the strip of linen wrapped around her arm was visible. "Oh. I just fell. Nothing to worry about," she answered, smiling.

Peter cringed. No matter how easy it was for Amelia to pass her injury off as a fall to the others, he knew she'd gotten it when she was sparring with him. He nudged her and leaned towards her. "Sorry," he murmured.

"Not your fault," she answered quietly.

Breakfast continued as usual, other than Peter excusing himself early, citing some vague reason that none of them paid too much attention to.

Peter was mysteriously absent from any place that Amelia was for the entire day. She began to get suspicious that he was avoiding her; it was unusual for them to go any extended length of time without spending time together. He was even missing while she ate dinner with Susan; he didn't arrive until after she was finished, bringing Edmund and Lucy with him.

The next morning, Amelia crawled out of bed and made her way outside to meet Peter to spar again at sunrise. She made her way down into the courtyard where they'd met the previous day, and found it empty. Confused, she made her way through all the places she could think of that Peter would be to practice. He wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere. Disappointed, she returned to her room to change into more appropriate clothes for the day and went to breakfast.

Peter and Edmund never showed up to breakfast. One of the maids said they'd come to the kitchens early in the morning and ate a quick breakfast. No one had seen either of them since.

Finally, midmorning, Peter and Edmund burst into the great hall, where Lucy, Susan and Amelia were spending their morning. Amelia was explaining how to dry some of the herbs found in the area around Cair Paravel, and what each one was used for.

"The giants are rebelling again," Peter said, collapsing into a chair. He looked exhausted. "We've been in meetings with the ambassador and our generals since dawn."

"The army is preparing to march. We have to quell the uprising now, before it gets out of hand," Edmund added.

Lucy stood up. "We'll leave this afternoon then. The faster we deal with the rebels, the fewer lives will be lost."

Susan agreed. "As soon as possible." She turned to Amelia. "Will you come with us? We may need your healing."

Peter frowned. "We don't anticipate this being a difficult battle," he argued.

Lucy glowered at him. "Difficult or not, someone is doubtlessly going to get hurt."

"We have healers to help them," Peter replied immediately.

"Amelia will be able to help them faster on the battlefield," Lucy said stubbornly.

Peter scowled. "And what if it's Amelia who gets hurt?"

Amelia lifted an eyebrow and and looked expectantly at Peter. "No one else can lead the regiment of battlefield healers."

Edmund grinned. "Talk about trial by fire. Though, if there was ever an ideal first battle for your healers, this would be it."

"Well then, we should go get ready," Lucy said, walking across the great hall towards the doors.

The royals began to disperse, each to gather whatever they need for the trip and battle. Peter was in his room, sitting on his bed, cleaning Rhindon with almost obsessive care. It was a ritual of his before battle, and had been since he'd been crowned. He heard the door shut softly and looked up.

"Am I interrupting?" Amelia asked, stepping into the room.

Peter looked back down at his sword. "No."

There was a pause and Amelia sat down next to him on the bed. "You don't want me to be here, though."

Peter looked up, surprised. "What? Why wouldn't I?"

Amelia couldn't help but smile. "Be honest, have you been avoiding explaining yourself like you promised to?"

Peter started off looking indignant. "Of course I..." He paused, reddening. "Well... I mean... yes..." He frowned. "It's not that I don't want to see you. I just don't know what to say."

Amelia closed her eyes. "How about we start with why you kissed me," she offered.

"You kissed me back," Peter answered defensively.

Amelia almost laughed aloud, her eyes popping back open to stare at him in disbelief. "You kissed me first!" she exclaimed, twisting her body so that she was sitting facing him.

There was silence. Then Peter seemed to find his voice. "Alright. I kissed you because I wanted to. Because you're beautiful. Because I've never met anyone like you." He saw a small smile spreading across Amelia's face. His confidence bolstered, he moved towards her, grinning mischievously. "And I'd like to kiss you again, if you don't mind..."

Amelia smirked, her eyes dancing. "What if I said I did mind?" she asked quietly, bringing her face just inches from his.

"Then I wouldn't believe you," he breathed, knotting his fingers into her hair.

She smiled. "Very good..."

He kissed her slowly at first. Amelia pulled herself closer to him, deepening the kiss and encouraging him further. She buried her fingers in his hair. He wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her gently.

When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing hard and Amelia had somehow ended up in Peter's lap, though neither could remember when or how.

"You know," Peter said huskily, smirking, "you actually kissed me first."

"Mmm?" Amelia mumbled, her mind not quite recovered yet.

"You kissed me. The night I was poisoned," Peter answered.

Amelia let out a purring sound, shutting her eyes as Peter raked his fingers through her hair. "I suppose I did."

"Why?"

"You were dieing," she replied honestly. "I didn't know if you would survive the night, and all I could think of was how much it would hurt to know that you weren't here anymore. Even though I had thought that I would eventually leave Cair Paravel with the Tribes and that I would probably never see you again, it would have still pained me to the core to know that you weren't alive and happy." She looked down, obviously bothered. She hadn't really considered the reasoning behind why she'd kissed him, but when she thought of a world without Peter, she had to struggle to breathe.

Peter smiled softly, guiding her face up so he could look her in the eye. "Don't mourn for me because of what could have happened. Be happy for what is."

Amelia returned his smile. "That's my line."

"I know, but I like it, and it's true," Peter replied, pressing his lips against her hair.

Amelia snuggled into his shoulder, gently pushing until Peter let himself fall backwards. She rested her head on his chest and curled into his side. She'd been fighting against feeling anything for him for so long because she couldn't have trusted herself to make the right decisions as his healer otherwise. Now that she could allow herself to feel, she relished having him so near to her. "What does this mean?" she asked slowly, listening to his heartbeat. She noticed that it began to speed up as he considered his answer.

Peter took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "I suppose it means that I'd like to start courting you," he began. Amelia looked up at him to reply, but he held a finger to her lips. "But, having me court you is different from any other man in Narnia. There are responsibilities involved that I wouldn't ask anyone to take on for my sake." He took both of her hands in his. "Don't decide now. Think on it. Promise me."

Amelia looked hesitant. "You won't let me say yes now?" she asked quietly. She'd surprised herself by saying it, but what surprised her more was how vehemently she wanted it.

Peter beamed at her and wound his arms around her, holding her against him. "No, though I'm sorely tempted," he whispered, brushing his lips against hers.

Amelia propped herself up, her face above Peter's, with one elbow.. With the other hand, she traced the lines of his face, chewing her lip and smiling as she watched his expression. She grinned to herself when Peter shut his eyes with as sigh, his body relaxing completely. She let her face fall closer to his. "You're _sure_ you won't change your mind?" she asked sweetly, trailing her finger tips down his torso.

Peter trembled and opened his eyes, grabbing Amelia's wrist. "By the Lion, you are very convincing," he said, rolling off his bed and getting to his feet. He began to pace the room.

Amelia sat up, grinning wildly. "You'll let me say yes then?!"

Peter laughed. "No."

Amelia frowned. "Please?" she asked, getting to her feet and grabbing handfuls of his shirt, drawing him closer to her.

Peter pointed at the door. "Out."

Amelia gaped at him. "You're kicking me out?"

"Yes, before you actually manage to convince me to change my mind," Peter answered, planting a quick kiss on her lips. "Now, out, out, out. It's must easier to resist your feminine wiles when you're on the _other_ side of the door."

Amelia burst out laughing. "My feminine wiles?" she repeated incredulously.

Peter raised an eyebrow at her, ignoring her teasing. "Are you going to leave?"

Amelia grinned. "No," she replied rebelliously. She crossed her arms, her eyes daring him to act on her refusal.

Peter grinned back at her and took a quick step forward, sweeping her legs out from under her and catching her quickly, carrying her bridal style out the door.

"Put me down!" Amelia cried, clinging desperately to his neck.

He ignored her shouts of surprise and tried to put her down just outside his doorway. He started laughing when she refused to let go. He put her legs down, leaving his other arm around her waist. With his free hand, he guided her mouth up to his, kissing her lingeringly. "I'll come find you when I'm finished here. I want to see you again before we leave," he whispered.

Amelia giggled. "We'll be together the entire trip," she answered quietly, clearly not understanding.

Peter kissed her again. "By 'see you' I meant 'kiss you'." He tilted his head forward, trailing kisses down her neck. "And please, think seriously about my courtship," he murmured.

Amelia tried to roll her eyes, but found that she was enjoying his kisses too thoroughly, so settled for shutting them instead. "I already said yes."

"I know, but I'd never forgive myself if you ended up regretting the choice. Promise me you'll think on it before you give me a final answer," Peter told her seriously.

"Alright, I promise," Amelia conceded, looking disappointed.

Peter traced her jaw with his fingertips. "Only because I care for you, angel."

Amelia lifted herself up on her tiptoes, ignoring the blush that was creeping up on her cheeks when she realized what he'd just called her. She planted a kiss on his neck and pulled him into a hug. She inhaled; he smelled like grass and rain and vaguely of rose water.

"I know."

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This happens to be my next candidate for favourite chapter, though I think it's pretty obvious why :P

You know the drill, read and review :) I heart my readers!


	13. The Giants' Land

**Chapter 13 – The Giants' Land**

It was early afternoon when the army was finish assembling. They made their way north, through marshes towards the giants' land. It took two days. They set up camp just before the rocky canyons where the giants were assembled.

Amelia was standing in the center of one of the war tents, checking and double checking her supplies, strapping on her weapons and mentally preparing herself for battle. If she could avoid it, she would often spend up to three hours before a battle without saying a word.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked, stepping into the tent behind her.

She half turned, raised and eyebrow, and returned to tightening the straps of the pack that she used to carry her medicines.

"Answer me!" Peter shouted.

Amelia turned all the way around this time, staring at him. He was furious, but she had no idea why. "I'm getting ready?" Her sentence turned out to be a question; she wasn't sure if that's what he was asking about. It didn't seem right that he'd be angry at her for that, but she couldn't come up with any other answer.

"You're not going into battle," Peter said, his eyes daring her to argue.

But argue she did. "We already talked about this, Peter. I'm going to lead my healers into battle." She went back to fiddling with the straps of her bag.

Peter grabbed her by both of her upper arms, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

"You can't. You're needed here to help the wounded," he said slowly, trying to contain the anger in his voice.

She glared at him. "I'm needed on the battlefield to help the wounded. Let go," she answered, pulled out of his grip.

"What if you get hurt?"

She rolled her eyes. "Then I have a regiment full of healers that I've trained myself who can take care of me."

Peter rubbed his face with his hands. "Your healers have had barely a month of training. If the best healer in Narnia could care for you if you were injured, then I might consider letting you go, but _you're_ the best healer in Narnia, so it's out of the question."

Amelia stopped to gape at him. "You'd consider letting me, would you? Did it ever occur to you that you can't stop me?" she demanded, her voice rising.

Peter raised himself up to full height. "As your High King, I order you to stay behind."

There was a crackling silence.

"_You_ are not my king," Amelia growled, clenching her fists. "I'm still a member of the Western Tribes. Attempted regicide is grounds for nullifying any allegiance between our people, and my mother's exile makes me a monarch, so in fact _I'm _the only one who can decide what I do, and I'll do whatever I damn well please." She took step towards him, her eyes fiery. "And you will _never_ try to order me around again, understand?" She turned on her heel, swinging her pack over her shoulder, and stormed out of the tent.

Peter followed her, catching her wrist only a few steps outside. "Please, Amelia."

"Why?" she asked, her voice still short and angry.

"What if you don't come back?" he asked. "You told me what it was like for you when I was poisoned, when you weren't sure that I'd make it to see the next day. That's what I feel like right now." Peter's eyes were flickering everywhere, and his grip on her wrist was tightening, showing exactly how anxious he was.

Amelia sighed, her expression softening a little. "And for every one of the men in your army, there's someone waiting for them at home who's feeling exactly the same way you are, and I intend to make sure that all of them make it back to their own loved ones." She lowered her eyes. "Besides," she murmured, "did it never occur to you that I'm feeling like that right now too? Do you see me demanding that you stay behind?"

Peter groaned, searching for an excuse. "I've done this before, and I've always come back. It's different."

Amelia almost had to laugh. "You're right, it is different. Maybe you should stay behind. After all, I've been doing this since I could walk. I'm far more experienced than you are." She shook her head. "Relax and don't think about it. It will only distract you and then you might get hurt," she assured him. She went up on her tiptoes and whispered, "I'll see you after the battle." She glanced around, made sure no one was watching, and planted a quick kiss on his lips before turning around and running off to prepare Farheart.

-----------------------------

The battle was an enormous success. Most of the giants laid down arms; many of them had been coerced into joining the battle and those that didn't immediately surrender switched sides and began to fight for the Narnian army. All that was left was to subdue the core of the rebellion.

Still, Peter worried. When the fight surged forward, forcing the giant forces further into their own territory, he'd hang back, searching for a sign of Amelia.

Once, Edmund stayed back with him. "What's wrong with you, Peter? You can't be so distracted int the middle of battle!" he scolded, though his face showed nothing but concern for his brother.

"I know, Ed, I'm trying," Peter muttered, urging Arian forward towards the battlefront.

Amelia was fine. She'd survived the battle just like she'd promised. She didn't even have so much as a scratch on her. A soldier with a broken leg was lying towards the giant's side of the field once the battle was over. She was tending to him, splinting the break before she sent him back to the healers.

An ancient giant, the one who had been the center of the rebellion, was bitter over his loss. He chose his weapon carefully and took careful aim at the one the High King looked at so fondly. He threw it with great precision; Amelia would have been dead had Susan not seen him and shot him with an arrow as he threw. It was enough to remove his aim just slightly from its mark. Instead, the weapon sliced across Amelia's upper back, drawing a cry of surprise and pain from her.

The giant was dead in a matter of seconds. Susan saw to that.

Peter mounted Arian and kicked him into a gallop, flying across the field. Lucy and several of Amelia's healers were right behind him.

"Amelia! Are you alright?" he asked, his worry growing when she didn't answer.

Amelia was still kneeling next to the soldier with the broken leg, slumped over with her arms crossed tightly in front of her. She began to shake violently.

"Lucy! Your cordial!" Peter shouted, dropping to his knees next to Amelia.

Lucy dismounted. "It doesn't look life threatening," she answered slowly, doubting her judgment. The wound wasn't deep. It wasn't even bleeding very much, but Amelia looked pale and sickly.

"Poisoned," Amelia grunted, her voice crackling. "The knife was poisoned."

"Cordial!" Peter said again, desperately.

Lucy looked hesitant. "But what if it's the wrong kind of poison?" she asked, holding the phial in her hand but not moving closer to the sickly princess.

"Do it," Amelia replied gruffly.

Lucy hesitated for only a moment longer before she stepped forward and opened the phial.

Peter helped Amelia hold her head up for Lucy to pour a drop into her mouth. Everyone waited with baited breath to see what would happen.

Amelia's breathing slowed, her body going tense. Finally, her breathing go so shallow that it seemed like she wasn't breathing at all. She began to sway.

Lucy put her hand over her mouth, her eyes shining with tears. "No, no, what have I done? Oh no..."

Just then, Amelia let out a great barking cough, putting both her hands over her chest. She continued hacking violently for a few minutes, but straightened up considerably over the course of that time. When she finally calmed down, she grinned up at Lucy. "Wow, I feel better already!"

Lucy jumped Amelia, hugging her hard and knocking her over backwards. "By the Lion! Don't scare me like that ever again! I thought I'd killed you!"

Amelia laughed, returning Lucy's enthusiastic hug. "Giants use only the most primitive poisons. The kind of poisons that your cordial are effective against."

Edmund, who had joined them during Amelia's coughing fit, was scratching his head with confusion, as the girls detached and sat up. "I thought Lucy's cordial was effective against everything..."

Amelia shook her head. "The cordial is a very effective medicine for _almost_ everything. The body is very effective at recovering from injury, poison and disease. The problem is, those things weaken the body at the very time it needs to be strongest. Lucy's cordial strengthens the body and quickens the healing process. There are certain poisons out there, though, like the one that Deidre poisoned Peter with, that don't actually poison a person directly. Instead, they act as a sort of catalyst to cause the body to attack itself. If Lucy was to give her cordial to someone who'd been poisoned with one of those poisons, it would kill them instantly, because it would strengthen and quicken the very processes that are attack the body."

Edmund shook his head. "Deirdre had certainly planned well."

Amelia nodded, getting to her feet. "She's not one to be unprepared for any detail."

Peter stood up quickly, placing his hands on Amelia's shoulders from behind her. "Are you sure you're strong enough to be standing yet?" he asked in a whisper, bringing his mouth slightly closer to her ear that was strictly appropriate. He was thinking of the soft neck hidden under her hair.

Amelia grinned and twisted around to face him. "I'm fine, Peter." Her eyes settled on his lips and she licked her own subconsciously. She lifted her hands, placing them over his on her shoulders. He hadn't moved from where he'd been when he was whispering, so now their faces were just inches apart. She decided that she'd gone too long without kissing him and began to devise a plan to get him alone with her as soon as possible.

Edmund rolled his eyes. The sexual tension between them was thick enough to cut with a butter knife and it was driving him crazy. "Oh for the sake of everyone who has to see you two do this _every day_, stop avoiding it!" he exclaimed. "When are you going to start courting her, Peter?"

All eyes turned to Peter, anxious to see how he would react to the question.

Amelia grinned mischievously. "Yes, when? It's taking you _forever_. Really, it's impolite to keep a lady waiting like this," she agreed innocently.

Every mouth in hearing range fell open in shock, except Peter's; he let out a loud laugh.

Peter took one of Amelia's hands and lifted it, kissing her fingers. "Well, I suppose now, if you'd like."

Lucy was grinning from ear to ear. "Well done, Ed," she said, patting her brother on his arm.

Edmund still looked shocked. "If I'm being completely honest, I wasn't actually expecting him to ask her... well, not right this instant."

"He didn't actually _ask_," Susan noted, coming to stand beside Lucy, looking supremely amused. She gave a meaningful look to Lucy; they'd have to get Amelia alone later to demand answers.

----------------------------------

The army spent the night at the camp; they'd start their journey back to Cair Paravel in the morning.

Lucy and Susan stole Amelia into her tent to 'recover'. They told Peter point-blank that he was _not_ allowed inside. Needless to say, he wasn't pleased, but stalked off to his own tent without too much of a protest. He actually believed that Susan and Lucy had the intent of letting Amelia recover.

"Explain," Lucy said bluntly when she and Susan returned to Amelia's tent. She sat down on one of the pillows that were arranged in a circle in the center of the tent, across from the one Amelia was sitting on.

"Explain what?" Amelia asked, playing dumb.

"Explain why you said what you did when Peter asked for your permission for courtship," Susan answered briskly, watching Amelia with interest, sitting next to her sister.

Amelia shrugged. "Why not? I thought I was funny."

Lucy grinned. "I agree completely, but you knew what he was going to say."

Amelia looked down at her hands, blushing. She was quickly trying to decide how much to tell them.

"Ha!" Lucy cried, sitting up straighter. "I knew it!"

"I may have... kissed him..." Amelia mumbled, blushing furiously. She knew that secretly, Lucy and Susan loved gossip like this, and though they'd never tell anyone else, they'd _never_ let Amelia forget it. "It was when he was poisoned. I thought, I mean, I didn't know if he'd survive the night, and I kissed him. I didn't think he'd remember..." In truth, Amelia was playing up her embarrassment over the kiss, hoping that Susan and Lucy would latch onto it and wouldn't ask if there was anything more. She knew she wouldn't be able to lie and they'd eventually make her tell them about sparring too. The trouble was, if they knew, she and Peter wouldn't be able to get away with it nearly so easy again, and she was quite looking forward to it when they returned to Cair Paravel.

Thankfully, they did exactly as Amelia had hoped and demanded every detail of what she was thinking and how he reacted.

Eventually, Amelia stood up and simply walked out of the tent. She was mildly surprised when Susan and Lucy didn't ask where she was going, since she'd felt their eyes following her out the door. Once she was far enough away from her tent, she allowed herself to look back, and saw Susan and Lucy both twisted around and staring owlishly out into the darkness at her. She considered what she would do next; eventually, she would end up in Peter's tent, but did she want them to know that's what she was up to? She decided it might be worth it to see their expressions, so, watching them closely, she strode over to Peter's tent, pulled open the flap, stepped inside, and promptly burst out laughing.

Peter had looked up in surprise when she'd walked in, and his expression turned to one of bewilderment when she started laughing. "What's funny?" he asked slowly, worried that the poison might have had a delayed effect on her mental faculties.

Still giggling helplessly, Amelia walked over to where Peter was stretched out on a hammock that had been hung between two tent posts. "Their faces," she gasped, covering her mouth with her hands as she tried to contain her mirth.

Even though he still hadn't ruled out the idea that Amelia might have gone crazy, Peter smiled, enjoying the sound of her laughter. "Whose faces?"

Amelia finally gained control of her laughter and was simply grinning. "Susan and Lucy. They've been pestering me with questions about you and they saw me come in here. I can't even imagine what they're thinking right now!" she exclaimed, collapsing into another fit of giggles.

Peter started laughing with her now, too. Of course his sisters would jump to conclusions.

Amelia, gasping for air, put her hand down on Peter's shoulder to support herself as she put another hand to her aching sides. It really wasn't _that_ funny, but the stresses of a battle often express themselves in unusual ways, and tonight, for Peter and Amelia, it would be by hysterical laughter. As Amelia put more weight on Peter's shoulder, the hammock swung abruptly, causing Peter to hold on to the sides for dear life and sending Amelia tumbling on top of him.

"You did that on purpose," Peter announced once Amelia had righted herself. She was now lying on her stomach, half on top of him and half next to him, her head nestled comfortably on his shoulder while Peter was stretched out on his back, one arm draped over her waist.

Amelia looked up, surprised. "What?"

"You came in here to crawl onto my hammock with me," Peter answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You did that just so you would have an excuse to."

Despite the fact that it wasn't true, Amelia found she couldn't argue. It wasn't as if she didn't want to be there, so she just shrugged and ran her fingers through his hair. "Is that a bad thing?"

"It comes with a price," Peter said solemnly.

Before Amelia could ask what the price was, Peter pulled her back down on top of him, making her lips crash into his. The kiss ended up being longer than either of them intended, though neither would exactly complain about it. Peter was smirking smugly when they parted.

"A price implies that I'm giving you something I'd prefer you didn't have," Amelia noted casually.

"You don't have to be so logical about it," Peter replied. "It was just an excuse to kiss you."

Amelia chuckled silently; Peter could feel her torso vibrating with laughter.

"You don't need an excuse, Peter."

"Then I'd like another kiss," Peter announced, grinning.

Amelia nodded and sat up, but instead of moving so that she could kiss him, she moved her whole body upward and grabbed his shoulders, guiding his movements so that he was lying mostly on his side. Then, she lay down next to him again so that she was facing him. She took the hand of his top arm and laid it on her waist, burying the fingers of her free hand into his hair. She shuffled towards him so that their noses were touching without either of them having to move. "Now you don't have to ask," she whispered, her cheeks turning pink.

Peter was going to kiss her, he really was. Eventually. He couldn't help falling into a trance; her green eyes were the only things he could see and he considered never looking at anything else again.

Amelia shut her eyes, inching forward just enough that her lips were touching his. It wasn't quite a kiss, but she could feel every subtle movement his lips made against hers.

Peter let out a gust of breath. Amelia could feel it stirring her hair. She would have thought nothing of it had she not felt his mouth forming soundless words. She hummed a sound of curiosity, opening her eyes. To her surprise, she found that Peter's face flaming red. She could almost feel the heat rolling off of his blush.

Peter shut his eyes, staying adamantly silent.

Amelia ran her fingertip along the edge of his face. "Tell me," she murmured.

"I... love you..." Peter breathed, his eyes tightening as he said it.

Amelia was struck with the urge to laugh. Not at him, but because she was happy. Instead, she wrapped one arm around his shoulders and pulled him towards her, kissing him fiercely, fighting with the bubble of hilarity threatening to burst in her throat.

When they parted, Peter was looking at her with an expression of some surprise and lips that were beginning to bruise.

Amelia couldn't stop the quick giggle that escaped as she watched him. "I love you, too."

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I am a ridiculous hopeless romantic... oh geez... but it makes me HAPPY!

So far, my reviewers have been giving me the green light to go as graphic as I'm comfortable writing. To be honest, I have no idea how graphic that actually is. I'm not going to delve into the realm of smut, but we'll see how close I get. I'll learn when I write it XD

You know the drill! Review for cookies!


	14. Bubbles

This one's dedicated to o0oFearMeo0o (for obvious reasons :P)

**Chapter 14 – Bubbles**

Upon returning to Cair Paravel, Amelia and Peter began to meet before dawn in the same place to spar each morning. No one else knew or, if they did, never told them, which was good, because the sparring would only last for a few minutes before they'd end up discarding their practice swords to sit in each other's arms in the shade of a tree, or to lie together on the grass, watching the sky slowly change colour at the sun came up.

Amelia had learned, over the course of the week that had passed since they'd returned, that she could go out onto the balcony from her room, climb onto the railing, and pull herself up onto the roof. She knew from the layout of the castle that this roof covered at least the entire northern wing of the castle, which is where all of the bedrooms were. The Pevensies' rooms and the guest rooms were on the top floor (Amelia hadn't moved out of her guest room). She'd found a west-facing nook that she liked to sit in and watch the water.

It was after one 'sparring' session with Peter that she climbed into the roof and, instead of climbing up the slope towards her nook, she picked her way along the edge of the roof, trying to determine which balcony belonged to which room. She found Peter's room by accident; she'd been able to hear a maid tell him that his bath was ready.

"Thank you," came Peter's muffled voice; he must have been facing away from the doorway.

Amelia got down onto her hands and knees, making her way carefully and quietly towards the edge of the roof. She hung her head down below the eaves, peering curiously through the translucent curtains and into Peter's room.

The head of Peter's bed was against the same wall as the doorway onto the balcony. He was lying down on it, so all she could see was the bottom half of his legs and his feet. He didn't look like he was planning on moving anytime soon.

As quietly as she could, Amelia made her way down off the roof, onto Peter's balcony, peering around the corner into his room. She noted with appreciation that he wasn't wearing a shirt. She'd certainly seen him shirtless before, but only in a professional capacity. She silently applauded herself for the self-control it must have taken to resist appreciating the view before. She grinned when she realized that he had his eyes closed and made her way inside, taking care to step lightly. "Hello," she greeted cheerfully.

Peter's eyes snapped open. He let out a yelp of surprise, rolling away from her and clean off the bed, hitting the floor with a thud.

Amelia jumped onto his bed, landing on her hands and knees, and peered down at him. "Are you alright?"

Peter nodded, sitting up and watching her warily. "How in the world did you get in here?"

Amelia grinned cheekily. "I'm very sneaky," she answered, pleased with herself.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Yes. Very. You scared me half to death." He got to his feet and sat down next to her on the bed.

"Sorry," Amelia answered, sitting up next to him.

Peter smiled in spite of himself. "No you're not. If you were sorry, you wouldn't be grinning like that."

Amelia shrugged. "Just because it's funny doesn't mean that I'm not sorry."

A silence stretched between them after that. Amelia started to feel awkward. Not because of the silence, but because she was still wearing several layers to ward off the early morning cold, and the steaming bathwater in the corner of the room was heating the air with surprising speed. She was starting to sweat and wanted go change. She was getting to her feet when Peter caught her by the waist and pulled her back down towards him, this time with her landing in his lap.

"Where are you going?" he asked quietly.

Amelia smiled. "Nowhere, apparently." She could feel the sweat beading on her forehead, but she suddenly didn't care.

Peter grinned triumphantly and slipped his hand under her hair to cradle her neck. He found it damp and hot. "You must be melting," he said, his eyebrows furrowing with concern once he took in the number of layers she was wearing. "Here," he whispered. He slid one hand up the outside of her thigh, underneath the layered shirts. She shivered when his fingers contacted the warm skin of her waist. He withdrew his hand a short way, only to slide it up between the soft silk of her under clothes and the rest of her clothing. Slowly and carefully, he lifted the extra layers and pulled them off over her head.

Amelia could feel the heat rising on her cheeks when she realized just how little she was wearing; her shirt had sleeves, since it was for winter, but the sleeves didn't cover her shoulders and the neckline plunged precariously low in order to accommodate dresses of different styles. She pulled herself out of Peter's arms and stood up, blushing furiously.

"Come on, Peter, you're water will get cold. Maybe I should give you some privacy," she said, blurting out her words so quickly that they became slurred. She looked everywhere but at him before she finally settled on staring at the water.

"Lift your arms," Peter said from closer behind her than she expected.

Amelia twisted around to stare at him, her blush deepening.

Peter lifted up the cotton shirt he was holding in one hand. "You can wear this. It's light and it will cover you better than that," he said quietly, averting his eyes for the sake of decency.

Amelia took it and pulled in on over top of her undershirt. "Thank you..."

Peter lifted his eyes, catching her gaze. "I don't understand why you're embarrassed. You're beautiful." He wrapped one arm around her waist. With the other hand, he laced his fingers together with hers.

Amelia smiled, her blush returning. She knotted her fingers in his hair, tugging gently to bring him down for a kiss. She took a small step backwards to keep her balance as Peter moved forwards towards her, but instead of touching ground, her leg hit the side of the tub and she sat down hard on the edge, very nearly falling over backwards.

Peter caught her, but ended up with one foot inside the tub in order to keep his balance. He tried to straighten up, but his foot slipped and he ended up tumbling into the water, dragging Amelia in on top of him. "Bath time!!" he exclaimed jovially, making Amelia laugh.

Amelia sighed and stretched out on top of Peter, resting her head in the crook of his neck. She found herself thankful again for the extra layer; she knew from experience what her silk under-clothes did when they got wet.

Peter started tracing the valley of Amelia's spine with his finger tip, admiring his choice of shirt for the way the water made it cling to her body. As she relaxed on top of him, he let his fingers stray further down her back than was strictly necessary, and when he began to draw his finger back up her spine, he slipped them underneath the layers of cloth so that he was touching her back directly. Amelia didn't seem to mind; in fact, she let out a contented sigh and let her body relax even further. He wondered if she was going to fall asleep.

One of Amelia's hands was hanging lazily over the side of the tub. She moved slightly away from that side of the tub, struggling to convince her body to shift even a little bit (Peter's hands were doing a very good job of convincing her to stay exactly where she was). She lifted her hand and pressed it against his ribs; it was cold after having been out of the water, making him shiver involuntarily. Then, she began to trace each one of his ribs by feel with a feather light touch. A hum of pleasure escaped Peters throat before he could stop it.

Amelia moved her fingers slowly, going from his lowest rib and moving upward. When she reached his eighth rib, Peter went suddenly from completely relaxed to tense. He yelped, swatting Amelia's hand away, his eyes wide with surprise at his own reaction, then began to blush. "I'm ticklish..." he muttered.

Amelia couldn't help herself. She burst out laughing. "The High King of Narnia is ticklish!" she blurted, holding both of her hands over her mouth to try to contain her laughter.

"Lots of people are ticklish," Peter answered defensively.

Amelia just kept laughing, no longer trying to hide it. Instead, she held her sides, sitting up and gasping for breath.

Peter sat up too, now, and they were positioned so that Amelia was straddling his legs. She tilted her head forward so that her forehead was against his shoulder, her laughter calming into small giggles.

Peter shook his head, rolling his eyes. "I'm glad you find it so hilarious," he said, trailing his hands up and down her arms. His fingers glided up the inside of her arms, making her pull away from him and yelp. He grinned. "You laugh at me... but you're ticklish too, aren't you?"

Amelia shook her head vigorously. "Not. Not ticklish. Not even a little bit."

"Aslan knows you shouldn't lie, Amelia," Peter said solemnly, kissing her warmly. Mid-kiss, though, he slid his hands up her sides, brushing his fingers quickly over her ribs.

Amelia yelped again, pulling her lips away from his and grabbing his wrists.

Peter's breath caught in his throat. Every time he tickled her, she would squirm, unknowingly grinding against him. At least, he thought it was unknowing. He closed his eyes, trying to control himself.

Amelia grinned evilly, swaying her hips slowly. "Now," she whispered into his ear, "are you sufficiently distracted?" She ran the palms of her hands down his chest, her fingertips teasing the skin just above the top of his pants.

Peter opened his eyes, smirking at the look on Amelia's face when she saw the obvious lust in them. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for a heated kiss. His other hand snaked up her thigh and stomach, savoring the feeling of her skin. He hesitated just short of her chest; the chivalrous and proper part of him was screaming bloody murder inside his head about how incredibly inappropriate their actions were. He was trying his best to ignore it, but he hadn't quite managed to shut it away completely.

Amelia, feeling Peter's hesitation, arched her back so that his elbow was caught against the side of the tub and his hand had nowhere to go but up. She moaned into his mouth, encouraging him, her own hands roaming over his chest.

Peter's voice of propriety was quashed entirely. Still holding Amelia against him, he climbed slowly to his feet and out of the water, letting her lock her legs around his waist.

"Where are we going?" Amelia asked, her voice warm.

Peter just grinned and kissed her, letting her down slowly onto his bed. His lips never left hers and he let Amelia pull him down on top of her, her legs never releasing their hold on his hips.

There was a knock at the door, and the couple sprang apart. Amelia rolled off the bed on the opposite side of Peter, knocking a table in the process.

"Peter?" It was Susan. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine, Su. Just give me a moment," Peter called, hurrying to his closet to find dry clothes.

Amelia gathered up her own clothes and scurried out onto Peter's balcony. It took her a moment longer than normal to navigate the climb to the roof with all of her clothes in her hands.

Peter pulled the door open, smiling at his sister. "Good morning!"

"You missed breakfast, so I came up to make sure you're alright."

Peter laughed. "If nothing else, I can be counted on for my stomach. I'll be down to the kitchen to grab something in a few minutes."

Susan was staring past Peter. "Your bed is soaked! Peter, what have you been doing?" she demanded.

Peter was trying to formulate an explanation in his mind, but Susan spotted a trail of water on the floor. She followed to the balcony door.

Peter balked. "No, Susan, really, you shouldn't...." he began to babble.

Susan ignored him and stepped out onto the balcony.

Peter cringed, peering out after her, expecting to see a soaking wet Amelia caught red-handed and wearing one of his shirts. Instead, he found the balcony empty.

Susan was scowling at him. "It's too cold to be out on the balcony wet!" she scolded.

Peter let out a deep sigh of relief, though he couldn't help but wonder where Amelia was.

Just above their heads, lying flat on her back on the roof, Amelia held her breath, wishing desperately that they would go back inside. She didn't dare move while they were still out on the balcony; she might be seen.

"I also came to tell you that we're going out riding. We're leaving soon, but you can catch up if you'd like to come. Amelia is invited as well. Edmund and Lucy are gone to find her," Susan said. "Lucy's staying behind to escort the two of you," she added, her voice full of mirth.

Amelia could hear the scowl in Peter's voice. "Of course."

"Try not to be too long, would you?" Susan asked, retreating back into Peter's room. Peter's footsteps followed her.

Amelia rolled onto her stomach and got to her feet as silently as possible, padding across the roof to her own room. She dropped down on to her balcony to hear Lucy knocking on the door.

"One moment!" Amelia called, rushing inside, hiding her wet clothes and changing into something dry. She pulled open the door to find Lucy smiling up at her.

"Good morning, Amelia! Would you like to come riding with us after you eat breakfast?" she asked, stepping into Amelia's room.

Amelia smiled. "Absolutely. Where's Edmund?" she ask, realizing her gaff as soon as she spoke.

Lucy didn't appear to catch on. She'd picked up on some other suspicious thing. "What have you been up to this morning?" she asked, sounding more curious than anything else.

Amelia shrugged. "Usual morning things."

"How did you get your hair so wet? It'll have to dry before we go out, it's too cold out for wet hair," Lucy said.

Amelia shrugged. "I suppose I would have waited to have a bath after the ride if I'd known. That's alright, though. My hair can dry while I eat."

Lucy smiled, lifting one eyebrow. "There isn't any water in your tub."

Amelia paused, feeling caught. "The tub has already been emptied," she answered slowly.

Lucy nodded. She obviously didn't believe it, but she wasn't pushing the matter.

Amelia offered her a cheeky grin and stepped through the door. "Shall we go riding, your Majesty?"

-----------------------------

So there. A bathtub chapter :)

I'm shockingly nervous about writing a sex scene between Peter and Amelia, because I know if I go too graphic it'll come out like a campy lit-porn. So if the next chapter takes a long time, that's why. I've already written it twice... And for those of you who are interested, I wrote a slightly crack AU/AH twilight fic called "Find Me", mostly to practice :P If you're interested in finding out what the next chapter might sound like, check it out. Hopefully it'll turn out okay!!


	15. Birthday

Well... this is it. As per my promise, no other plot than the lemon occurs here, so if you're not interested, read only the first four paragraphs and then move on to the next chapter (once it's posted).

**Chapter 15 – Happy Birthday**

Several months passed. Peter's birthday arrived and the party was enormous. He spent much of his time thanking people for their well-wishes and not nearly enough time enjoying himself. He was used to birthdays passing in such a way, more work than fun, but Amelia adamantly believed that it was the wrong way to spend one's birthday.

Peter was curled up in bed that night, unable to sleep. The air was cold, though he was warm underneath his blankets, and his head was buzzing from too much wine and excitement. He was missing Amelia.

Edmund teased him mercilessly about his constant need to be around her. He suspected that his siblings knew about their sparring sessions in the mornings, or at least that he spent his early mornings with her somehow. Susan had commented more than once about how aggravated Peter would get if he and Amelia aren't 'left alone before breakfast'.

He hadn't been able to go sparring that morning. He'd barely even spoken to her the entire day, and to make matters worse, she'd looked absolutely stunning. From the first time he saw her in that dress, with Susan and Lucy helping a young dryad maid do her hair, all he'd wanted was another chance to see her. He'd only seen her five times; he knew, because the breath had been knocked out of him every time she entered his field of vision. The day had passed achingly slowly, as time tends to do when all one wants is the very person that one can't have.

Peter sighed, rolling over. Moonlight was spilling into his room through the balcony door. He'd left it open; to him, his birthday would always signify the beginning of spring, though the air was still bitterly cold. Winter hadn't quite loosened its grip on Narnia yet. A cloud passed over the moon, and suddenly his room was plunged into darkness.

The moon reappeared, and an angel swathed in light was in his room.

Amelia smiled shyly, her hair burning bright red in the moonlight. "I came to give you a happy birthday," she whispered, moving silently across the room towards him.

Peter opened his arms, welcoming her into the warmth of his bed. She was freezing cold. "You wished me a happy birthday this morning," he answered, pressing his lips to her forehead as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"I wished you a happy birthday, yes, but I don't think it's been very happy so far," she answered.

Peter shrugged. "It was fine. There was nothing wrong with it."

Amelia looked up at him, her eyes shining. "A birthday should not be fine. It should be exceptional." She kissed him softly, wrapping one leg around his legs and pulling him closer. A shiver coursed through her frame and suddenly Peter knew that something was different.

He broke the kiss and looked her seriously in the eye. "What is it?" he asked quietly, tracing her face with his fingers.

"You love me." It wasn't a question. "I love you." She paused. "Do you intend to marry me?"

"Yes," Peter answered instantly.

She smiled. "Then there's no reason not to."

Peter wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her completely with one arm around her shoulders, the other around her waist, and his legs well on their way to becoming completely tangled in hers. "Not to do what?" he asked.

Amelia grinned cheekily. "Shall we say... practice for the consummation of our marriage?" She trailed her hand down his side to his hip, blushing when her fingers never found any cloth. "Peter Pevensie, do you sleep in the nude?"

Peter grinned back at her. "I wasn't expecting company." He rolled over on top of her, pinning her wrists to the bed with his hands, and kissed her. "You're sure?"

Amelia's eyes were sparkling in the dark. "Are you?"

"More than sure," he breathed, kissing her neck. "But you know if this gets out, you'll take the brunt of the scandal," he explained, releasing one of her wrists to he could brush the hair out of her face.

"Oh, what a tragedy it would be if you had to announce our intent to be married to protect me from scandal," she answered sarcastically, smirking. "Of course I'm sure."

"Good," Peter answered, sliding his hand up her bare thigh and under her night gown, pushing it gently upwards. He took his time running his palm up her torso, savouring the feeling of her skin and enjoying the small sounds she made every time he moved his fingers.

Amelia buried her fingers in his hair, pulling him down into a searing kiss, arching her back into his hand as he reached her chest. Her breathing hitched when he released her other wrist and ran his hand up and and down her thigh. "I love you..." she breathed, pressing her lips against the curve of skin where his neck met his shoulder.

Peter smiled, sitting up on his knees and pulling Amelia up with him. "I love you, too." He lifted her gown over her head, tossing it onto the floor. "Have I told you recently how beautiful you are?" he asked, his smile widening.

Amelia blushed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling herself closer to him. "Once or twice," she answered quietly, kissing him gently. She pulled herself up onto his legs, feeling him shiver at the contact. She lifted herself up above him and kissed his forehead. "Don't apologize," she murmured, and before Peter could ask what she meant, she brought herself down on him, her fingernails digging into the skin of his back.

Peter groaned. The feeling was completely unexpected, but it was incredible, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. The blood was rushing in his ears, drowning out all other sound, and he couldn't feel much anything else for a moment, so he didn't realize immediately that Amelia was in pain.

He touched her jaw, lifting her face to look at him. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly, wiping her tears away with his thumb.

She shook her head, smiling slightly. "It's alright. I'll be okay in a moment. It always hurts the first time," she explained quietly.

"You're hurt?" Peter gasped. He tried to pull away from her, sure that he was still hurting her by simply being inside, but she clung to him.

"Don't move," she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered, running his fingers soothingly up and down her spine.

Amelia smiled. "I told you not to apologize. It's not so bad, and I knew it was going to hurt the first time." She shifted her weight a little, and Peter had to tense his entire body, trying desperately to keep himself from reacting to even such a small movement. Smiling impishly, Amelia shifted her weight again.

Peter groaned. "I can't..."

Amelia pulled him down, letting herself fall backwards onto the bed with him. She knew what he was trying to say; he couldn't keep still any longer. "Then don't."

He held her face in his hands, looking seriously at her. "Are you alright?"

She nodded reassuringly, raking her fingers through his hair and down his back. "I'm fine. I want you."

It was all the encouragement Peter needed. He started to move slowly, and Amelia arched her back into him, moving involuntarily. Sensory overload overwhelmed both of them. All Amelia could see or hear or feel was Peter. Cair Paravel could have crumbled around them and Peter would never have known.

It felt like both forever and only a moment had passed before Amelia could feel herself reach the edge and go tumbling off of it. She let out a wordless cry, her whole body shuddering violently.

Peter kissed her fiercely, barely able to breathe as the sheer tension in her body sent him crashing down with her. He could taste blood, once he was able to taste, hear or see anything again. He'd cut his lip and bruised hers with that kiss. Panting, he rested his head on her shoulder, nuzzling her neck.

Amelia reach up and absently traced his shoulder blade with her thumb. "I...umm...wow..." she whispered, chuckling breathlessly.

Peter hummed in agreement, forcing himself to look her in the eyes, even though he couldn't quite see straight yet. "Thank you," his said, after gathering his wits. He kissed her cheek and collapsed back down onto her shoulder, still trying to regain his breath.

Amelia grinned, feeling a little bit drunk with afterglow. "Happy Birthday."

Peter rolled off of her only to reach over and wrap one arm around her shoulders, pulling her over on top of him. He pressed his lips into her hair while she settled her head comfortably on his chest. "No kidding. Very happy," he agreed. He felt like his bones were made of mush and wanted nothing more than to stay in bed with her forever. The last thing he heard was Amelia's soft noise of contentment before he fell asleep.

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Hurray!! I'm pleased with how it turned out. Are you? Do press the pretty review button and let me know :)


	16. The How

**Chapter 16 -- The How**

Peter woke up to the sun in his eyes. His opened them, squinting. It was a rare day that he slept in past sunrise. A wide, lazy grin spread across his face and he stretched, becoming aware of the warm weight on his chest. He looked down to find Amelia still sleeping peacefully. He moved so that he could run his fingers over the bare skin of her back, but his shifting weight woke her.

Amelia yawned, stretching one arm above her head and smiling sleepily at him. "Good morning!"

Peter chuckled, kissing the top of her head. "Morning, angel."

Amelia shifted so that she was lying completely on top of him and put her hands down on either side of his head so she could prop herself up and look down into his face. "How are you feeling this morning?" she asked, leaning down to kiss his warmly.

Peter yawned, slipping his arms loosely around her waist. "Lazy," he answered after a long pause.

Amelia let out a quiet laugh, letting her head fall closer to his so that their noses were almost touching. "Mmm, too lazy to have another go?" she asked, kissing him again.

Peter grinned and tightened his hold on her waist, rolling them over so that he was on top of her. He kissed her lingeringly, trailing his hands all over her body. "Never."

--------------------------------

Amelia was well on her way to dreaming again, the sound of Peter's breathing and heartbeat lulling her back to sleep. She was at that point, halfway between waking and dreaming, where one can't tell what's reality and what's imagination. She gasped, starting violently, when someone started to bang on Peter's door.

Peter burst out laughing, trying to muffle the sound with his pillow, lest the person at the door realize that he had company.

"Peter! Come on! You'll miss breakfast if you don't hurry up! We'll be late for the ceremony at the Stone Table!" Edmund called through the door.

"Alright, Ed, I'll be out in a moment," Peter called back, standing up and running his fingers through his hair.

Amelia rolled out of bed and slipped her nightgown back on over her head. She skipped across the room to where Peter was rummaging through his clothes and kissed his shoulder. She shot him a grin as he looked back over his shoulder at her, and when he turned around again, she disappeared out onto the balcony and across the roof.

Peter pulled a shirt on and turned around, opening his mouth to say something to Amelia, only to discover that she'd already left. "Sneaky."

------------------------------

When Amelia walked into the Great Hall to eat breakfast, all the Pevensies were already there. She sat down between Susan and Lucy, and when she looked up, her gaze locked with Peter's and she looked down at her plate, blushing. When she peeked back up again, Peter was watching her, smirking. She grinned, trailing her fingers suggestively across her collar bone.

Peter's eyes followed Amelia's hands for the entirety of breakfast. Whether she meant to or not, every movement she made was provocative, at least to him.

Edmund touched Peter's shoulder, concerned for his brother. Peter had been breathing heavily and acting greatly agitated for the entire meal. "Are you alright?"

Peter nodded, rubbing his face. "I'm fine."

"Well, I'm finished, so I'll go get ready for this ceremony," Amelia said, smiling and getting to her feet.

"Meet us at the front gates in an hour," Susan answered.

Peter prodded his food with his fork, his eyes following Amelia as she left. He had to struggle to keep his breathing even. Every time he looked at her, he saw images from the previous night and that morning. Once she was gone, he polished off his food quickly, and stood. "I'm off to get ready."

"A hour," Susan reminded him as he was on his way out.

---------------------------------

Amelia turned to the sound of her bedroom door slamming shut. She barely had a chance to register the sight of Peter before he pinned her to the nearest wall and kissed her hard.

"You're driving me insane," Peter breathed, kissing her again.

Amelia smiled against his lips and grabbed handfuls of his shirt, guiding him towards her bed. "That was the intent," she answered as she sat down, pulling him down with her.

"Ah," Peter said, grinning, "so you _were_ doing it on purpose." He pushed her gently down onto her back and began to trail kisses across her collarbone, along the very path her fingers had followed earlier.

Amelia tugged on the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up and tracing the lines of his stomach.

Peter sat up and pulled the shirt off over his head. He leaned down again and kissed her softly. "I love you."

------------------------------

Amelia curled up, her back to Peter's chest, and shut her eyes, sighing contentedly. "How much more time do we have?"

Peter shrugged, pulling hair back out of her face. "20 minutes, maybe. I'm not sure." He laid one arm across her waist.

Amelia sighed and put her arm over his. "Can we postpone the ceremony due to weather?"

Peter laughed. "It's a beautiful day outside," he answered.

Amelia twisted around to grin at him. "Yes, but you know how quickly storm clouds can form! We might be caught out at the Stone Table in the pouring rain. It might not be a good idea to risk it. We should stay inside all day, just to be safe."

Peter started laughing harder and sat up. "As much as I'd love to..."

Amelia sat up, too. "I know, we have to go. It's an important celebration." She got to her feet, gathering her clothes. "You're lucky. I wish I'd had a chance to meet him."

Peter stretched out on his bed, watching her. "Who? Aslan?"

She nodded. "I've never seen him. We were heading south to our home camp in Archenland when the rumors of Aslan's return started, just before you arrived. We returned to Narnia in a hurry when we heard that there was a force rising that had a chance of overthrowing the Witch. But by the time we got the message, the battle was well on its way or even over, and by the time we reached Narnia again, Aslan was gone and you had been long crowned."

They dressed slowly, Peter explaining to the best of his abilities what Aslan was like, before hurrying down to the front gates to meet the others.

Peter was uncommonly quiet on the way to the Stone Table. He spent most of his time staring off into space, letting Arian follow the others at his leisure.

Amelia fell back to ride beside him. "What's wrong?"

Peter scowled. "For once in my life, I can honestly say that I hate being a King."

Amelia would have laughed if it wasn't for the serious look on Peter's face. It was hard to believe that he wasn't joking. "Why?" she asked, shocked and confused.

Peter sighed, looking up from the ground for the first time to look into her eyes. "We can't keep sleeping together," he said bluntly.

Amelia blinked at him, even more surprised. "Oh... Why?"

"What if I get you pregnant?" Peter asked sharply.

Amelia rolled her eyes. "You're not going to get me pregnant."

"You can't know that!" Peter hissed, glancing at his siblings; they were riding far enough ahead that there was no way they'd hear what Peter and Amelia were saying, even if they started shouting. "Imagine what people would say if the High King had a child out of wedlock!"

Amelia snorted. "Who cares what people say?"

"I do! I'm a king, Amelia, I _have_ to. And so do you, if you want to be my queen. A king can't rule without the respect of his people, and there would be few faster ways to lose it! You shouldn't have come into my room last night in the first place," Peter answered angrily.

Amelia got angry now, too. "It's all my fault, now, is it? If this is such an important issue for you, you could have told me to leave!"

Peter glared at her. "You expect me to kick my half-naked lover out of my bedroom as she's throwing herself at me?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes!" Amelia shouted. "I do! If I'm to be your queen, you'd better kick any half-naked woman out of your bedroom who isn't me! How could you possibly expect to keep the respect of your people when you don't even have the self-control to do that?"

Peter let out a low growl. "You _know_ I wouldn't think twice about getting rid of any woman who isn't you. But you can't deny that you didn't exactly give me much choice in the matter last night."

"One word would have stopped me," Amelia answered furiously. "And _you_ were the one who came barging into _my_ room this morning."

"You could have said 'no'," Peter answered, throwing her earlier argument back in her face.

Amelia laughed darkly. "I'm not the one who's worried about this in the first place."

Peter shook his head, his expression suddenly sagging. "You should be. These things are important to a queen. You can't be my queen until you do."

Amelia went suddenly stiff. She looked like he'd just slapped her across the face. She nudged Farheart into a trot and went to catch up with the others.

Peter bit his tongue, silently scolding himself for not being more careful with his words. "Amelia! Wait!" he called, but she ignored him entirely.

When Amelia reached stride with Susan, she slowed Farheart and shut her eyes.

Susan took one look at her and frowned. "What did my ass of a brother say to you?" she asked, twisting around in her saddle to glare at Peter.

"Nothing, Susan. It's not him."

"Then what's wrong?" Susan asked, concerned.

"Peter needs a queen for his wife, not some wild girl," Amelia answered, sounding forlorn.

"I don't understand..." Susan said slowly, guiding her horse closer to Amelia's so they could speak in hushed tones.

Amelia shook her head, biting back tears. "Even after so long in Cair Paravel, the court is still such a foreign place to me. I don't understand it, and I don't fit in, and I don't understand what would be required of me as a queen. I wouldn't make a good Queen of Narnia."

Susan sucked in a sharp breath, biting the insides of her cheeks to keep from swearing in a very unladylike fashion. "I'll _kill_ him," she seethed, turning her horse sharply and galloping back towards Peter.

It is said even to this day that every creature in Narnia could hear Queen Susan yelling at her older brother for the rest of the way to the Stone Table.

When they reached the Stone Table, some of the other guests had already gathered, but most were still on their way. Amelia excused herself, citing rare herbs in the area as an excuse to be alone.

"Go speak to her, you dolt," Susan hissed, nudging Peter less-than-gently towards the thicket that Amelia had disappeared into only moments before.

Peter glowered at Susan but did as he was told and made his way slowly across the clearing and into the woods. He found Amelia sitting against a tree with her eyes closed.

"Go away," she muttered, not even opening her eyes.

"How did you know it was me?" Peter asked dejectedly. He stopped his approach, but didn't leave either.

"I didn't," she answered, sighing. She still hadn't opened her eyes. "I don't want to talk to _anyone_."

"I'm sorry. I should have chosen my words more carefully," Peter said quietly, walking towards her again.

Amelia finally opened her eyes and looked at him. "Doesn't make them any less true. You were right. I wouldn't make a very good Queen of Narnia."

Peter froze, staring at her. "That isn't what I said, it isn't what I meant, and it's certainly not true!" He crossed the distance left between them and dropped to his knees, taking her face in his hands. "You'd make an extraordinary queen."

"But you were right. I don't care what people think, but a queen should. If it was one of a million other traits, I could change, but I can't change that."

"You don't have to change," Peter answered, sitting down next to her. "It's just a matter of learning the expectations. Believe me, I know. My learning curve was a steep one, but I managed. That's not to say that I'm perfect. Far from it. I still speak before I think, obviously." That earned a small smile from Amelia. "You'll learn. Give it time." He peeked over at her, and was surprised to find that she was grinning.

There was a short silence, and then Amelia started to laugh. "This whole argument was my fault," she said, giggling.

Peter had to think about his reply; normally he would argue but she was laughing, which confounded him to no end. "It takes two to have an argument."

"No, no, if I hadn't gotten so angry so quickly, I could have avoided this whole mess," she replied stubbornly, still falling into the occasional fit of laughter. "There isn't a problem in the first place. I told you, I can't get pregnant. Coriander. If you prepare it properly, it can prevent pregnancy. We've been using it for years to keep the women from getting pregnant while we were in the wilds for long periods of time. I've been adding it to my tea in the morning for about a week and a half now," Amelia explained, grinning sheepishly.

"Oh," Peter said weakly, digesting this new information. "Wait, you'd been planning to sleep with me for a week and a half?"

Amelia burst out laughing again. "I promised you a birthday gift."

"Well," Peter sighed, feeling suddenly much more relaxed. "This changes things." He caught Amelia around the waist and pulled her into his lap.

Amelia looked up at Peter, smiling meekly. "So all is forgiven then?"

Peter smirked roguishly. "Only if I can have you again tonight," he murmured, kissing a trail up her neck to her ear. "And tomorrow night, and the next night, and the next..."


	17. Iron Heat

**Chapter 17 – Iron Heat**

Amelia began showing up in Peter's room at night consistently. Peter never figured out how she got in; one moment his room would be empty, and the next, she'd be crawling into bed next to him.

A few months later, Peter and Amelia were spending their night as they often did together.

Peter was just dozing off when he felt Amelia move. When she pulled completely out of his arms, he opened his eyes, searching blindly for her in the darkness for a moment before he caught sight of her figure sitting on the edge of the bed. He could barely see the shine of the white silk as she pulled her nightgown back on over her head. He touched her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, twisting around and planting a kiss on his cheek. "I can't stay. Susan and Lucy want me to take them out to collect mint leaves tomorrow morning before breakfast. They're coming at dawn. They might be a little suspicious if they find me here instead of in my own bed."

Peter grunted in reply. He was mostly asleep already.

Amelia chuckled quietly and kissed his cheek again before disappearing out onto the balcony.

------------------------------

Peter woke the next morning to someone pounding on his door. He rolled out of bed, pulled on a pair of pants and yanked the door open, his face set into a scowl.

Lucy was waiting for him on the other side, looking worried. "I can't find Amelia."

Peter froze for a moment before he remembered that Amelia had left in the night. "Is she not in bed?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

Lucy shook her head. "Susan and I have already looked everywhere. I'm worried."

Peter sighed and stepped back into his room, pulling a shirt on over his head. "I'll help you look."

They search the entire castle, despite Lucy's insistence that they'd searched it all already. They searched the grounds, too. It was almost midmorning when the entire Pevensie family and much of the Narnian royal court, who had joined in the search, collapsed into the chairs set around the breakfast table in the great hall.

Peter buried his face in his hands. "Where is she?" he asked, more to himself than anyone else.

An Eagle flew in the window and landed gracefully on the floor next to Peter. "Your Majesty, I've found Lady Amelia," she announced, sounding amused.

Peter looked up, his face the picture of relief. "Where?"

The Eagle let out a funny coughing sound that seemed suspiciously close to a laugh. "She was asleep on the roof, your Majesty. I woke her and told her what has happened. She offers her sincerest apologies, and will be arriving for breakfast momentarily."

As promised, Amelia burst into the great hall only a few seconds later. "I'm so sorry! I hope no one was too worried for me!" She stopped next to Susan and Lucy. "I missed our expedition. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Susan answered, sounding as relieved as Peter felt. "We can go this afternoon, perhaps."

"What were you doing up on the roof, anyway?" Lucy asked curiously.

Immediately, all eyes turned to Amelia. Evidently, that was the question of everyone's minds.

Amelia blushed. "I couldn't sleep, so I went out to look at the stars last night. I must have fallen asleep. The next thing I knew, Verila the Eagle was telling me to wake up."

The rest of the day passed normally, with the women spending the afternoon out in the woods, collecting their leaves. Peter didn't get a chance to take Amelia aside and ask her why she was really doing on the roof, but he suspected that he already knew.

That night, Amelia arrived on Peter's balcony to find him waiting for her. She could see him sitting on the side of his bed.

"You come over the roof to get between your room and mine," he said when she came in.

Amelia grinned. "You only just figured it out?" She offered him her hand. "I really did fall asleep looking at the stars last night. Can I show you?"

Peter took her hand and let her lead him out onto the balcony. He watched as she shot a smile at him over her shoulder and began to climb up onto the railing. "Amelia!" he hissed. "Don't! What if you fall?"

Amelia laughed. "If I fall, I'll fall onto the balcony. It's safe, I promise," she answered, pulling herself up onto the roof. "Now you try. Just make sure to keep your weight on the balcony side of the railing."

Peter followed her lead, and if he was being honest, he knew that it would be extraordinarily difficult for anyone to fall off the balcony; his weight was always shifted towards the inside of the railing. He pulled himself up onto the roof and followed her up the slope towards a corner formed by the higher roofs of two other wings of the castle. He sat down in the corner, pulling Amelia down into his lap. "The view is incredible," he whispered. From where he sat, he could see most of the night sky and the view out over the water.

Amelia smiled, snuggling in closer to him. "I told you. Now do you understand why I fell asleep up here?"

Peter nodded, feeling completely content. It felt like they were entirely alone together, which was a rare feeling.

They spent much of the night up on the roof, sometimes holding whispered conversations, but often just sitting together in the stillness and the silence. They watched the sliver of a moon rise over the horizon. By the time Amelia fell asleep on Peter's shoulder, the dawn was just beginning to colour the sky.

Peter touched the thin chain around his neck, his fingers following the cool metal underneath his shirt to the pendant, which lay beneath his clothes against his skin. He'd been rather careless with it; it was a miracle that Amelia hadn't seen it. He felt her stirring when he reached up and unclasped it, pooling the chain over the pendant in his palm.

"What are you doing?" Amelia asked groggily.

"You'll see in a moment," Peter murmured in reply, carefully pulling the chain away from its pendant and clasping it back around his neck.

Amelia sat up, rubbing her eyes. "We should go to bed," she noted, sounding reluctant.

Peter smiled and pulled her back against his chest. "Later," he whispered, taking her left hand in his. With his other hand, he slid a ring onto her finger.

Amelia grinned tiredly. "It's beautiful..." she said quietly, lifting her hand to admire it. It was a simple silver band, with a diamond in the center and two emeralds on either side. In her sleepy stupor, it took her a moment to understand the full meaning. "Wait, are you...?" she began, her eyes going wide.

Peter put a finger to her lips before she could finish. "Will you marry me?" he asked, brushing her hair out of her face.

Amelia tried to speak, but no noise would come, so she kissed him instead. She could feel him grinning against her lips. Once she was sure she could speak, she broke the kiss and pulled him into a hug. "Of course." It was only a moment afterwards that she put two and two together. She sat up so she could look him in the eye. "Were you wearing my engagement ring around your neck?" she asked, amused.

Peter shrugged, blushing. "Maybe."

"Why?" she asked quietly.

He shrugged again. "I wanted to keep it on me all the time, so I would have it when the perfect moment came," he whispered, his voice so low that Amelia almost couldn't hear it.

Amelia rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes to think. "How long have you been wearing it for?" she asked, trying to remember when she had and hadn't seen it on him.

"A while."

"How long?" Amelia prodded, curious.

"...almost four months," Peter admitted shyly.

Amelia laughed quietly, pulling him into a kiss. "Let's go to bed, love."

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In the morning, Amelia bounded into the great hall, beaming. "Good morning!" she cried, offering Lucy, Susan, Edmund and Tumnus a brilliant smile.

"You seem happy," Susan noted, smiling.

Peter stepped into the room behind Amelia and whispered in her ear, "They're going to guess if you keep grinning like that."

Lucy bit her lip, trying to keep from laughing. "Do you have something to tell us?" she asked, her voice cracking at the end of the question.

Peter wrapped his arms around Amelia's waist, pulling her back against his chest. "I asked her to marry me," he announced, grinning from ear to ear.

The next moment, the newly engaged couple found themselves covered in hugs and congratulations. Several of the maids had heard the announcement and soon, the great hall was filled with the Narnian court, offering their well-wishes to the High King and his new fiancée.

Over the course of the day, Peter explained to Amelia the tradition of a Narnian royal engagement. The royal family and their closest members of the court go on a tour of Narnia, taking at least six months, though more often the tour includes neighboring countries, so often it can take up to a year. They decided that they would be leaving in a week's time. Edmund organized messages to be sent ahead of the party.

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The next morning, Peter woke up to find himself alone in bed. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a scream from the floor below. He rolled out of bed, pulled on some clothes and ran down the stairs. He reached the kitchen door on time to hear a high-pitched whining sound from Amelia.

Amelia was leaning over the long wooden table, her head in her arms. Above her, Saleema was holding a hot iron, pulling it away from her neck and setting it back into the roaring flames in the open oven.

"Amelia!" Peter choked, stumbling into the room and running over to her. Once he got closer, he could see and smell the fresh burn of the angel brand and he could hear her heavy breathing as she tried to contain her pain. "What are you doing?!" he demanded savagely, glaring at Saleema.

Saleema lifted her hands, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Majesty. She asked me to do it early, so we wouldn't have to do it on the trip."

Peter sat down next to Amelia, smoothing her hair away from her wound. "Why did you have to do it _at all_?!"

"I explained this already," Amelia snapped, her voice muffled since she didn't lift her head to speak.

"But Deidre and the others are gone. You don't have to do this anymore..." Peter said helplessly.

Saleema sighed, sitting down in a chair on the other side of Amelia. "If it helps, Majesty, at least she won't be doin' this again."

Peter glowered at her. "Not for another five years, anyways."

Saleema laughed. "If you don't mind me sayin' so, I doubt you two will be going five more years without children." She realized that she needed to explain when she saw the look on confusion on Peter's face. "A female Angel doesn't have to be marked again after she has children."

The doors burst open to reveal two distraught maids. "Oh! King Peter!" one of them cried. "We're sorry! We tried to find you before she could hurt Lady Amelia, but we were too late!"

"It's alright," Peter answered resignedly. "Were you the ones I heard screaming earlier?"

"Yes sir," the second maid admitted shyly.

Peter nodded and waved. "Thank you. You can go."

Amelia let out a low whine. Her hand curled into a fist, her knuckles turning white. "Wrap it," she hissed. "Water and mint, and the linens. Hurry."

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Soon Amelia found herself in bed, sprawled out on her stomach with her eyes closed. There were strips of linen wrapped loosely around her neck, and the entire Pevensie family was gathered around her bed. "Really. I'm just fine," she insisted, cracking open a book and settling comfortably into the pillows. "Go do something fun. I'm perfectly alright just relaxing here."

"Are you sure there isn't anything you need?" Lucy asked for the fifth time.

"I'll stay with you," Peter offered.

Amelia sighed and peered up at them through narrowed eyes. "Go. Right now. I promise I'm fine. I'm not completely helpless. It just hurts a bit to move," she admitted, grinning sheepishly.

Saleema was standing in the corner, looking amused. "You heard her, Majesties. Outcha go."

The Pevensies reluctantly left her room as Saleema shooed them out.

"Don't worry about doing anything to get ready for the trip," Susan said on the way out. "I'll make sure everything is ready for you."

Amelia rolled her eyes, smiling. "Thank you, Susan!"

Saleema followed the others out after putting the salve and fresh linen strips within Amelia's reach.

In the peace and quiet of her room, Amelia got through three pages of her book before she fell asleep.

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Hurray! Things are moving along nicely :) This chapter is brought to you by "I Do" by Dashboard Confessional. The last chapter was brought to you by "Feel it" by Jakalope. Next chapter should be soon: I'm already almost finished!!


	18. Archenland

**Chapter 18 – Archenland**

As expected, the tour of Narnia lasted just over five months. The group consisted of Peter, Amelia, Susan, Edmund, Lucy, Tumnus, Saleema, Verila the Eagle, several advisors, several dryad maids and a small group of guards. Seven months into the tour, they reached Anvard.

King Lune met them at the gate with his family. "Welcome! Welcome!" he shouted in a great booming voice, opening his arms.

Peter dismounted his horse and walked up to King Lune, grinning. "Lune!" he greeted, laughing.

"Congratulations!" Lune said, smiling once more at Peter before he turned to Amelia. "Ah! And you'd be the lovely Lady Amelia." He offered her a hand down off of her horse, which she took gratefully and dismounted.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, King Lune," Amelia greeted.

"SUSAN AND LUCY ARE HERE!!" a small blond boy cried, racing past Amelia towards the rest of the group, who were just passing under the gate.

Susan leaned down and swept the boy up in front of her onto her horse, laughing. "If it isn't my favourite little prince!" she exclaimed, giggling and ruffling the boy's hair.

Lucy rode up beside Susan and gave the young prince a slightly-awkward one-armed hug. "Hello, Corin!"

Lune laughed. "Oh, it's so good to see you all. Come in, come in! Dinner is waiting for us."

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A few days into their stay, Amelia, Susan, Lucy and Verila went out into the hills surrounded Anvard to collect herbs.

Verila was soaring high above them, searching for the bright splashes of colour that were the Devil's Horn flowers.

Amelia dismounted among some brush and began to dig around, looking for the small flowers that Verila had said she'd seen.

"How can you stand to walk around in there like that?" Susan asked, walking her horse through the brush but refusing to dismount herself. "Those branches are so sharp..."

Amelia grinned and lifted her skirt a short way. "I'm wearing pants underneath, and I have leather wraps around my ankles. I've been herb-gathering around here before. I learned my lesson the first time." She spotted a splash of red and bent down, digging carefully through the underbrush and plucking the petals off the flowers. She looked up when she heard two thuds and Lucy squeak, and gasped, horrified. There was a gruff man standing behind each Lucy and Susan, who had been pulled from their horses, holding swords to their throats. Amelia straighted up instantly, her eyes wide.

"Well, well, you've gotten sloppy," a voice said from behind Amelia.

She turned around to find a man with wild black hair and cruel eyes grinning at her, holding the point of his sword towards her.

"You're not even armed. You think that since the Winter's over, all the bad people in the world are gone?" he asked cruelly. "You're about to learn a valuable lesson, my girl." He looked up at the two men holding Lucy and Susan. "Come on, bring 'em back to the camp." He leered at Amelia. "The boss will be pleased to see you, Amelia." He pointed in the direction that he wanted her to go and Amelia, glowering at him, went without protest. She only co-operated because Susan and Lucy were in danger; she had a blade concealed in her sleeve, and she would have fought if she hadn't been afraid of what the other two would have done to the young queens. She looked up, wondering what to do, and saw Verila soaring overhead, beating her wings harder than Amelia had ever seen before toward Anvard.

The camp wasn't too far away, and the men there, all of them dirty and haggard, stared at the group at the captives entered.

Susan and Lucy both kept their heads down, thinking that the men were staring at them.

A man, slightly cleaner looking and wearing a thick gold chain around his neck, came out of the largest of the grimy tents. He started laughing when he saw them. "Amelia! What a surprise to see you here! I've heard your mother has been exiled, so I suppose you'll get no help from her this time." He snorted, and then caught sight of the two women standing behind her. "Oh, and who are your friends?"

Before Susan and Lucy could answer, Amelia replied, "They're my apprentices."

"Do they have names?" the man asked lazily.

Amelia faltered. "Suzanne and Lucille," she answered, cringing inwardly. She didn't want him realizing that they were the Queens, and she was afraid that she might have given them away with her sudden momentary lack of creativity. "They're not of any interest to you, Kellen. Let them go."

Kellen, the bandit leader, laughed coldly. "Oh no! They're _far_ too pretty to waste." He signaled to the men holding Susan and Lucy. "Take them to the tents. Amelia, too." He grinned lecherously. "She's mine, though. She's got to learn that she can't turn a man like me down."

Amelia gagged loudly, scowling at him. One of the bandits shoved her after Susan and Lucy and their guards. They ended up bound in a small tent in the center of the camp with guards posted at the corners of the tent.

"How does he know you?" Lucy asked when they were left relatively alone. She sounded terrified.

"This isn't the first time he's taken me prisoner. You'd think he'd know better after what happened _last_ time," Amelia hissed in reply.

"Not the first time?" Susan repeated.

Amelia sighed, sitting down. "Before the end of the Winter, we were in Archenland to escape the Witch's wolves. I was out with a young apprentice Angel when a handful of the bandits attacked us. They got me that time the same way they got me this time; they grabbed the little girl – she was no more than eight years old – and told me if I didn't stop fighting, they'd kill her. I'd already killed a couple of their men. They disarmed me and took us back to the camp and put us in a tent just like this. They left us there for the rest of the day, got drunk with their dinner, and came into the tent looking to have their way with me. Kellen was the first one in. I fought him off, but it was hard with my hands bound. One of the other men tried to touch Amy, the little one."

Susan made a choking sound. "She was _eight_?!"

Amelia nodded solemnly. "He didn't last five minutes. I went into something of a blind rage. I don't remember much of what happened after that. Suddenly Adrianna was there with two other Hunters. They'd been tracking us because we hadn't returned when we were supposed to. And most of the bandits were either dead or fleeing. We'd killed their leader, so I suppose that's why Kellen is leading them now. I can't believe he's managed to grow his band as much as he has. We completely decimated them all those years ago."

"Wait a moment," Susan said, sounding almost like she didn't want to say what she was about to. "If this was before the end of the Winter, how old were you?"

Amelia was quiet for a moment. "I was eleven," she answered softly.

"That's disgusting! They were trying to do that to an eleven-year-old and an eight-year-old!" Lucy squeaked, covering her mouth with her bound hands.

"And you fought them off with your bare hands at eleven?" Susan asked, surprised.

Amelia shook her head. "The odds were in my favour, really. I've been fighting since I could walk, and they were so drunk they could barely stand on their own. I also stole Kellen's sword once I beat him, so I had a weapon after that."

There was silence for a moment, and then the sound of Lucy crying softly. "They're going to do that to us, aren't they?"

Amelia shook her head. "I won't let them touch you," she growled, flicking her wrist to expose the dagger hidden in her sleeve. She cut her bonds and crawled over to Susan and Lucy, cutting them free as well. "We have to wait until nightfall. We won't be able to escape until they get drunk. Once dinner starts, I'll take care of the guards and we'll sneak over to the horses." She stopped when she heard footsteps approaching from outside. She buried in hands in her lap, letting the ropes fall over her wrists to make it look like she was still bound.

Kellen stepped into the tent and smirked at her. "Well now, you've filled out nicely," he said leering at her.

Amelia glared at him. "That's no way to speak to a lady."

Kellen started to laugh. "You? A lady? Hardly!" He chortled some more before turning his eyes to Lucy. "She's more the age I'm looking for, though..." he sneered. "You're a pretty little one, aren't you?"

"Don't touch me!" Lucy cried, shuffling backwards.

Amelia was on her feet, her dagger out, in and instant. She grabbed a handful of Kellen's hair and dragged him backwards, holding her blade to his throat. "You're sick," she hissed before pressing the blade down. It killed him instantly, spraying blood all over the ground at her feet.

Lucy let out a cry of surprise and horror while Susan covered her face with her hands.

"Sorry," Amelia said gruffly, dropping Kellen's lifeless body and peering out into the camp. "Change of plans. They're going to realize that he's missing, and when they come looking for him, we're dead. We need to go right now." She looked seriously at Susan and Lucy. "Cover your eyes."

The two girls did as they were told. They heard Amelia coughing and calling out to the guards. They heard the guards' footsteps as they entered the tent, and they heard a gurgling sound and a thud as Amelia disposed of each of them. When they removed their hands, there were four more bodies on the floor.

"They weren't even armed..." Lucy said slowly, trembling.

Amelia sighed. "Neither are you, but you know that wasn't going to stop them."

"Then doesn't this make use just like them?" she asked quietly.

Amelia wrapped one arm around Lucy's shoulders. "I wish I could say everything I did in life was honourable, but in a choice between honour and survival, and I'll choose to survive. They wouldn't have died if they hadn't kidnapped us in the first place, and I promised your brothers that I'd take care of you, and I'll do anything and everything that I have to to keep you safe." She peered back out the door of the tent. The bandits were mostly just milling around the camp, doing what needed to get done in a camp such as that one . She spotted two bandits leaving Kellen's tent, looking confused. "Uh oh, they know Kellen's missing. We've got to get out of here." She was quiet for a moment, trying to figure out how to get across the camp to the horses. She could only think of one way to manage it. She slipped her dagger back into her sleeve and drew a sword for each hand from the guards. She turned to Susan and Lucy. "I'm going out there. I'll fight and distract as many of them as I can. As soon as you see a chance, run across the camp to the horses and escape. Cut Farheart loose on your way out, and I'll follow you later. Do _not_ wait for me! Go straight back to Anvard."

"No!" Lucy cried, throwing her arms around Amelia's waist. "We're not leaving you here!"

Susan had tears streaming down her face. "Lucy, she's right. We won't be able to help by doing anything but going back to Anvard as quickly as we can, and getting help." She looked up at Amelia. "Can't we at least try to sneak across the camp together? Do you have to go out there and fight?"

"You'll never make it to the horses unless I cause a distraction," Amelia answered adamantly. "Steal a weapon, in case you have to defend yourself. I'm going out." She turned towards the door, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the sunlight. "Kellen's dead!" she cried, drawing the attention of every man in the camp. "And if you don't let us free, you'll all follow him in short order!"

It only took a moment for Amelia to be completely surrounded by bandits, fighting for her life against ten of them at a time. They were quite a bit better at swordplay when they were sober. A rhythmic booming began quietly and slowly, getting louder and louder as time went on.

Lucy and Susan seized a chance to run across the field, though Susan veered off towards Amelia to cut down a bandit who was trying to take advantage of her turned back. The bandit turned and suddenly Susan found herself in a sword fight which she would have no hope of winning, except that Lucy came back for her and stabbed the bandit in the side, letting the girls make a speedy escape.

Amelia soon found herself backed up against the prison tent, barely able to hold off her attackers.

The booming grew ever louder, and soon Amelia found herself with a chance to catch her breath as the bandits stopped their advances towards her and started to stare around, looking for the source of the sound.

Another man wearing Kellen's gold chain stepped out of Kellen's tent. He was clearly the leader of the bandits; he must have been Kellen's second in command. It didn't take long for the change of power to take place. "What's all this racket?" he demanded, glaring at Amelia like it was obviously her fault.

"Release your prisoners or face death!" an angry voice shouted.

Amelia whipped around to see King Lune, mounted on a black stallion, on the crest of the hill behind her, flanked by Peter and Edmund. A moment later, the booming came to a halt as the entire Archenlander army came to a halt behind them.

Amelia grinned at the new bandit leader, whom she knew as Rusty. "My apprentices? Queen Susan the Gentle and Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia."

Rusty looked pleadingly at her. "You know if you'd told me I would have let you go."

Amelia nodded. "You would have, yes. You were always smarter than Kellen. He wouldn't have. He would have tried to prepare a force to resist the army coming to look for us. I wasn't about to let him do that."

Rusty bowed shakily to Lucy and Susan. "Of course, you're free to go."

Amelia started to walk towards the horses with the other two women. She stopped when Rusty caught her arm. "Not you. You still have to pay for killing Kellen."

Susan grinned sweetly at him. "You might want to reconsider that. She's High King Peter's fiancée."

Peter rode up behind Amelia, barely containing his fury. "You face the penalty of death for kidnapping Narnian royals."

Amelia pulled herself up onto Arian behind Peter, gently holding his arm. "Don't," she whispered. "Rusty's a good man, for a bandit. If you kill him, they'll put another sick murderer in charge."

Peter twisted around to look at her. "Then where's the one who's at fault here?"

"Dead," Amelia answered, unable to keep the look of satisfaction off of her face.

Peter sighed, loosening his grip on his sword. He was trembling. "I don't get the honour of killing the man who kidnapped you?" he asked, sounding sincerely disappointed.

Amelia smirked. "The honour was all mine."

"An honour you rightly deserve, I suppose," Peter answered. He looked at Rusty, his gaze hardening. "If we cross paths again, don't expect to survive the encounter," he threatened, turning Arian around and heading back towards the army while a small group of soldiers cut free the horses; Edmund and Lune were riding with Susan and Lucy.

Amelia wrapped her arms around Peter's waist and rested her cheek against his back. "I suppose I'm not being very ladylike today," she noted.

She could feel Peter's quiet laughter. "It's alright. I love it. I love you, and I'm glad you're safe."

Amelia smiled, squeezing her arms before twisting around to face Rusty. Her satisfaction at finally ridding the world of Kellen hadn't faded. "By the way," she called, "there are five dead men in your prison tent. You might want to look into getting that cleaned up."

The look on Rusty's face as she rode away on the back of High King Peter's horse was priceless.

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This chapter is brought to you by "You and your hand" by Pink. It perfectly fits Amelia's kick-ass mood this chapter :) This chapter was written to give Peter the chance to be Prince Charming and ride in and save Amelia in the nick of time, because poor Peter keeps being saved by Amelia and he hasn't gotten too much of a chance to save her. So there.

Now, reviews please :)


	19. Judgmental

This chapter is dedicated to Edmund, because I've been ignoring him almost entirely and he's awesome. I promise that by the end, every member of the family will have their own relationship with Amelia. Peter and Lucy already have a pretty obvious one, as does Susan, to a lesser degree. Susan's will be built up later... but I feel like it's Ed's turn to shine :)

**Chapter 19 – Judgmental**

Amelia stayed on the back of Arian for the ride back to Anvard. When they reached the front gate, she was half-asleep, leaning forward against Peter.

A large group of the court members had gathered in the courtyard, waiting for the army's return. The group started to buzz with excitement as the army returned. They went almost completely silent when Amelia swung herself off of Peter's horse, exhausted.

Amelia looked up, surprised by the sudden quiet. Most of the men and women of the court were staring at her, their expressions ranging between surprise and disgust. She looked down at herself and realized why. The skirt of her dress was in tatters, she was covered in blood and dirt stains, and her right sleeve had been pushed up to expose the bloody dagger strapped to her forearm. In short, she was a complete, wild mess, and she couldn't possibly look further from the type of woman who would be the future High Queen of Narnia.

Peter noticed the eyes on Amelia and dismounted, putting his arm around her. "Come on, let's go get you cleaned up," he whispered, putting himself between Amelia and the group, blocking her from their view. He led her into Castle Anvard and away from the prying eyes of the court.

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Anvard's court was murmuring, and Edmund was most upset when he discovered why.

Three young ladies-in-waiting were gathered in a sitting room, nibbling daintily on biscuits and discussing the disgraceful return of King Peter's future queen.

"Did you _see_ the state of that dress?" one of them asked, shuddering visibly at the thought.

"And that horrible knife strapped to her arm? What kind of a lady carries a concealed weapon? Just exactly what does she think she needs it for?" another wondered, deciding that a woman in need of a weapon must be involved in some very unladylike pursuits.

"Perhaps because she cares for the safety of my sisters."

The three women whipped their heads up to look bashfully at Edmund, who was standing in the doorway, his expression livid.

"Perhaps," he continued, "you would prefer that she leaves her dagger at home if you ever have the pleasure of going out with her, so that if any danger were to arise, she could be as ladylike and helpless as you three while you're being kidnapped, raped and murdered by a gang of bandits," he hissed, his face ashen with extraordinary anger.

The ladies gaped at him, shocked into silence by both his language and his strong reaction to their comments.

Edmund stood in the doorway only a moment longer with his clenched fists and clenched jaw. He bowed stiffly. "Good day. I hope you would consider putting an ounce of thought into your words before you unleash your poisonous tongues next time, particularly against someone who has certainly never done you any wrong." He shot them one more acidic look before turning and stalking away, walking almost directly into Amelia. He came to a quick stop only a few steps from the door, surprised by her presence and scrambling to keep from knocking into her. He hadn't noticed her approach.

Amelia had her hands over her mouth, but she was obviously grinning. She looked up at Edmund, her eyes full of some emotion poor Edmund couldn't decipher, before throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug. "You're a very sweet man, Edmund Pevensie," she whispered. She offered him another smile and them released him, turning around and disappearing down the hallway.

Edmund stared after her, confused but also mildly pleased with himself. He realized later why that was: if Edmund could be called anything, let it be said that he is fiercely protective of his family. And for the first time, he realized just how much he thought of Amelia as his newest little sister.

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Later that night, Peter was lying awake in bed, worrying over the court's reaction to Amelia. He felt a weight on the end of his bed, and then Amelia climbed under the blanket with him, wrapping her arms around his chest and burying her face in his shoulder. He laid one arm across her shoulders and tilted her head up so she was facing him with the other.

"Hi," she murmured meekly. Her eyes were shining with tears.

"What's wrong?" Peter asked quietly, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

Amelia shrugged, casting her eyes down as another tear spilled down her cheek.

"Please tell me..." he urged softly, his arm tightening around her.

She buried her face in his shoulder again. "I killed them in cold blood."

Peter watched her, concerned. "Who?"

Amelia turned her head so she was facing him. She told him everything about what had happened that day, from the moment the kidnappers pulled Susan and Lucy from their horses to telling the story of the first time she'd been kidnapped to killing the guards and the desperate escape attempt that was underway before Peter and the others showed up. Peter had been told what had happened, but he'd only gotten the shortened version. Details like exactly what had happened to the Kellen and the guards had be left out before. Now, she told him absolutely everything.

Peter was nearly shaking with anger by the time she was finished. "They tried to rape you. It wasn't in cold blood," he said, his voice flat and furious.

"Kellen did, but I killed him. He deserved it. The guards though... they hadn't done anything but follow orders. I pretended to be sick and they came in to help me... and I killed them..." Amelia sobbed, tears pouring out of her eyes again.

Peter was silent then, just holding her as she cried. There wasn't anything to say. She was right, after all. She didn't have any other choice and she made the best choice given her options, but that didn't make what she'd done any better, any more honourable, or any easier to live with. Peter knew what it was like. He'd done things in his life that he wished he hadn't needed to do. They were things that had to be done, but the faces of men dead and gone still haunted him in the night from time to time. His heart ached helplessly to know that Amelia would be forced to live with that same pain.

So there was nothing to say. No words of comfort that could ease what she was feeling. All Peter could do was hold her until she cried herself to sleep.

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Ya, this one's really short. I pretty much wrote it because I heart Edmund, and it led into some good angsty-fluff at the end... Sorry this one took me so long. I ended up having a hard time getting it out onto (digital) paper. Ah well! Here it is. Hope you enjoyed :) Tell me if you did (or if you didn't!) in your review!!


	20. Reward

**Chapter 20 – Reward**

The next morning, Peter awoke to find Amelia still passed out next to him. He was a heavy sleeper, and he just now realized he thankful he should be for that. Amelia was tangled so tightly in the sheets that he was surprised she could move at all. She'd obviously had a restless night. Even as he watched, she let out a quiet moan and rolled over onto her stomach, gripping the pillow so tightly that her knuckles were white. Her face wasn't relaxing and she moaned again, trying to curl up. The sheets were caught, though, and she woke with a start, gasping and terrified that she couldn't move.

Peter touched her face, pulling her towards him and murmuring soft words of comfort. Once her breathing had returned to normal, he asked, "Nightmare?"

She shook her head. "Not a nightmare, exactly. I've just been anxious all night." She looked up at him. "Did I keep you awake?"

Peter couldn't help but smile. "I can sleep through anything."

Amelia giggled and the tension inside her broke. She relaxed completely, letting herself sink into the pillows, a soft smile still lighting her features. "Everything seems better in the morning," she breathed, her words slightly slurred.

Peter watched her, trailing his fingertips up and down from her temple to her chin and back again while she fell back to sleep, this time deeply and peacefully.

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When Amelia finally joined everyone else for lunch, it was mid afternoon. She peeked into the small sunlit room where lunch was being served and smiled bashfully. "Good morning. I suppose I've overslept."

The Archenlander royal family was sitting with the Pevensies. Corin had finished eating and was just leaving with his nanny when Amelia arrived. Lune smiled at her. "Not at all. You must have been exhausted after all that happened yesterday. Peter very wisely suggested that we leave you to sleep."

Peter hide a smile when his gaze met Amelia's, and Amelia wondered absently how Peter managed to suggest that without creating the suspicion that he'd seen first hand just how tired she'd been, especially when Susan and Lucy seemed just fine.

"We would like to make an official announcement concerning yesterday's events. It seems that some explanation is required," Lune said, giving Edmund a meaningful look. He turned to look at Amelia. "You should be present so we will postpone it until you're prepared for such an announcement."

Amelia shook her head, sitting down next to Peter. "I'm just fine. The announcement can be made as soon as you would like it to be."

"This evening, then?" Lune asked.

"That's perfectly fine for me," Amelia said, looking around the table at the other Pevensies as each nodded in agreement. She was about to take her first bite, but she paused with her fork halfway to her mouth, a new thought striking her. "Verila!" she exclaimed. "We must make sure that Verila is given proper credit for what she has done. If it wasn't for her, I doubt you would have come looking for us in time. I certainly wasn't going to be able to hold off those bandits for much longer if you hadn't arrived when you did."

"Absolutely!" Lune answered, considering how to add a reward for Verila to the afternoon's announcement.

Peter, meanwhile, had gone very tense. His movements were jerky and unnatural as he poked at his food; he'd stopped eating. His face was set into a scowl. "The meal was delicious. I'll be upstairs if anyone needs me," he said, speaking mechanically. He stood up and swept out of the room.

Amelia got to her feet as well, smiling graciously. "If you don't mind, I'd like to go get a little bit more rest before getting ready for this evening. What time should I be ready for?"

Lune smiled. "Don't worry, I'll send someone to fetch you when it's time."

Amelia smiled kindly at him and followed Peter. She found him with his head in his hands, leaning against the wall in the stairwell. "What's wrong?" Amelia asked, touching his arm.

Peter formed fists with his hands, resting his forehead against his knuckles. "I can't believe how careless I am. I should never have let you go out on your own like that, armed or not."

Amelia blinked at him, surprised. "What? Peter, be reasonable. It's not even close to being your fault." She took him by the elbow and led him upstairs.

Peter threw his hands up into the air, pulling out of her grip. "It doesn't matter whose fault it was! The point is that it's a miracle you weren't hurt. You would have been dead by the time we found you if Verila hadn't been there, or even if we'd taken much longer to find the camp!" He pushed the door to his room open and began to pace.

Amelia watched him, her expression incredulous. "Exactly! It's a miracle! We should be _happy_."

Peter sat down on the bed and buried his face in his hands again. "And what about next time?"

Amelia stared at him, pushing her hair out of her face and considering the idea that she must have heard him wrong. "Next time? Just how often are you expecting me to get kidnapped?" she demanded, almost laughing at the absurdity of it.

Peter rolled his eyes at her. "You make it sound laughable, but it's happened once so it can happen again, and if Verila hadn't been there, they might have killed you before I could get there!"

Amelia sat down next to him with a huff. "They weren't going to kill me."

Peter glowered darkly at her. "No, they were going to rape you first, then kill you."

"They'd die before they take me." Amelia swung her leg up and around Peter's thighs, and ended up straddling him. She took his face into her hands. "No man will touch me except you."

"That really doesn't make me feel that much better," Peter answered dubiously, though his expression cracked and he started to smile. He locked his hand together over the small of her back and pulled her towards him.

Amelia hiked her skirt up and wrapped her legs around his waist. "You can't protect me from everything, love."

Peter sighed, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers. "I suppose you wouldn't let me keep you safe in my room in Cair Paravel forever, would you?" he asked, shaking his head. He took in her expression and chuckled. "I didn't think so."

Amelia kissed him softly. "You know me too well to think I'd ever agree to something like that," she whispered, a soft smile playing at her lips. She knit her fingers into his hair and pulled him in for another kiss.

Peter smiled against her lips and released his hold on her waist so he could run his hands up her thighs. Encouraged by her soft hum of pleasure, he pushed his hands up her thighs again, this time under her skirt. He let his hands come to rest just below her hips and drew circles on her hip bones with his thumbs. He pulled away from her kiss, panting slightly. "Hold on to me," he murmured, gripping her hips tightly. Once her legs were locked around his waist, he stood and turned, kneeling on the bed so that he could let himself fall forward on top of her.

It took next to no time for them to be rid of their clothes, but they took their sweet, loving time exploring each other. Even though they'd been together countless times before, it still felt new and different every time. Amelia always took longer than Peter did to come back down from her afterglow, so his favourite way to spend that time of late was to lie Amelia down, first on her stomach and then on her back, and trace every single one of her scars. He started this time, as he often did, with her angel brand. He moved next to a long, spindly, faded scar that ran parallel to her spine down the left side of her back. "Where did this one come from?" he asked quietly, afraid he might not like the answer. She often told him the stories behind her scars, and he often disliked them.

Amelia laughed, turning her head so she could see him. "The biggest scar I have, and it's not even a glorious battle scar. I fell out of a tree when I was ten. I hit a branch on the way down and it tore up my back." She grabbed his wrist and guided his hand to a web of even more faded scars across her right side, just over her ribs. If he hadn't been looking for them, he never would have known that they were there. "These came from the same fall." Peter traced them absently, opting instead to watch Amelia's face. He smiled to himself when she closed her eyes and let out a sound remarkably like a purr as he ran his fingertips along her ribs.

There was a knock at the door. "King Peter?" It was a maid.

Amelia jumped, started, and rolled out of bed, searching the floor wildly for her clothes. She stumbled a bit, still a little dizzy and weak in the knees. She glowered at Peter as he stretched out on his bed, laughing at her. "Where is my dress?" she demanded, trying to keep her voice quiet.

Peter chuckled, holding his arms out to her. "I like you much better without the dress."

Amelia rolled her eyes at him, trying to be exasperated, but found herself smiling instead. Some part of her was frustrated that all it took was a word from him for her to melt. The rest of her had already melted, and so had no opinion in the matter. She sat down on the edge of the bed, letting him pull her into his arms. "What do you propose we do about the maid at the door?"

Peter grinned. "We could tell her the truth."

There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that he'd ever actually admit to anyone that he'd been sleeping with his fiancée before the marriage. So Amelia decided to call him on his bluff. She pulled out of his arms, bounced out of bed and began to walk towards the door, still wearing nothing. She touched the door handle as the maid knocked again, and grinned at him. "I suppose seeing me unclothed in your room would be explanation enough?" she asked, grinning from ear to ear.

Peter nearly flew across the room, slamming into the door and resting his weight against it to keep her from opening it. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no and no," he hissed, his face going visibly pale.

Amelia snorted, pushing both her hands over her mouth as she tried to keep from laughing.

The maid knocked again. "King Peter? Are you alright?" She'd obviously heard Peter hitting the door.

"I'm fine," Peter called, his voice strained. He was glaring at Amelia. "What do you need?"

"King Lune is looking for you. He's downstairs in his study."

"Tell him I'll be down in a few minutes to see him," Peter answered through the door.

Once Amelia heard the maid's footsteps disappearing down the hall, she let out a snicker. "Your face was priceless," she said in explanation. "You know I wasn't going to open the door. I'm not the kind of lady who enjoyed parading around naked in front of a maid."

Peter shrugged, grinning boyishly. "Sometimes I wonder."

-------------------------

Rawr, rawr, rawr. Sorry this one took me sooooo long. It's not even that long.... I was having a really hard time with it, and I'm not sure why. The next one I have already planned out in my head though, so it should be a quick update! Thanks for being so patient with me!!


	21. Saviour

**Chapter 21 – Saviour**

It didn't take long for Amelia to realize that in the process of being kidnapped, she'd lost all of her newly picked herbs. She needed them; they were next to impossible to find anywhere else, so despite a heated argument with Peter over it, Amelia left Anvard again to go hunting for her medicines. This time, she took only Verila because, strangely enough, it made Peter feel better about the whole situation to know that she was almost alone. He knew that the only reason she was kidnapped last time was because they'd used his sisters against her.

Amelia was on foot this time, and Verila was soaring high above her, searching for more patches of colour. The Eagle swooped down, indicating that she'd found another patch, but veered off and flew upwards again before Amelia was able to pin point the place that Verila had seen the flowers. Wondering what the problem was, she headed in the direction of Verila's dive and heard voices.

"Come on! Move it or you'll be sorry."

"Hehe, they'll be sorry not matter what they do. Or at least, very sore."

Amelia slipped behind a tree as she came over the top of a hill and peered out. There were two men, dressed like the bandits who had kidnapped her before. She wasn't sure if they were part of the same group, since she hadn't seen all of the faces of the men at the camp. There were two young women with them, teenagers from the looks of them. They were both dressed in nightgowns and were in bare feet. They were filthy and exhausted looking, and the younger of the two, a blond girl, was crying.

"Does Rusty know what you're up to?" Amelia asked, stepping out from behind the tree and trotting down the hill towards them. "He didn't take too kindly to my being kidnapped, remember?"

The two men stopped, their hands on their sword hilts. The taller of the two grinned cruelly at her. "Rusty's dead. He was too soft to be our leader. We killed him."

"And your new leader condones kidnapping of pretty young girls?" Amelia asked dubiously.

The smaller one snorted. "There's at least two girls for each of us back at camp. We've been busy since you left us." He leered at her. "And you'd make a nice addition to our collection."

Amelia's mind was reeling. Really, she'd just wanted to free the two girls here, but if there were more back at the camp... and that's when she came up with an idea. She grinned at the men. "Good. I'll even come voluntarily. See how cooperative I'm being?" she asked, detaching her belt and letting it, along with the sword attached to it, fall to the ground. She kicked it to one of them.

The taller one seemed unimpressed. "You really think I'd believe you came to us of your own free will? Who in their right mind would leave the life of royalty to join _us_?"

Amelia shrugged. "You left a life of honest work behind to join Rusty... or whoever your new leader is. You could have made a good living as a farmer or something else but you chose the rough life in the wilderness. As a criminal, no less. Why? Because of the _freedom_."

"I'd give it up for a second to have the riches of a king like you do," the taller man answered, still obviously not believing her.

Amelia laughed. "Sure, so would I if it was all about the riches. What do you think drew me to the castle in the first place? But there are enough rules to drown a woman in." She was breaking them, she could see it. She needed one more feasible excuse. "Besides, I'd do just about anything at this point to escape from a life as a wife to that _tyrant_ of a man," she said, souring her expression. "He tried to tell me that I should stay locked up in the keep because Kellen kidnapped me!" She felt sick, even though she knew her words would never reach Peter's ears. At least her expression of disgust was authentic.

The two men stared at her, and then held a whispered conversation.

The shorter one nodded. "Alright. Come on. You'll speak to Carver when we get there."

"Carver?" Amelia repeated incredulously.

The taller one grinned, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "We call him that for what he does to his women."

Amelia balked and scrambled to hide her disgust and fear. Her imagination went crazy trying to decide exactly what that meant. None of the scenarios in her head ended well. The young blond girl started to cry again. Amelia glanced at her helplessly. She wanted to hug the girl and protect her and tell her that everything would be okay, but she couldn't. She needed to keep up the facade. Just because she wasn't strong enough to charge into the camp and free those girls didn't mean that she wasn't smart enough, so long as she played her cards carefully.

Verila was still wheeling above Amelia, looking anxiously down at the scene below. She wanted to go back to Anvard and bring help, but Amelia hadn't signaled to her yet. Since the last time they'd been out, she and Amelia had come up with several signals so they could communicate secretly if anything like this happened. Verila crowed in frustration, wheeling lower. Not only had Amelia gotten caught, she'd walked into it _on purpose_. There. Verila rose in her circles. Amelia had signaled for her to stay out of sight and follow. It was a great relief to the Eagle to know that at least Amelia seemed to have some kind of plan.

The small group of captives, now including Amelia, started towards the bandit camp again, with the tall one guarding them from the back and the short one from the front. It wasn't long before they reached the edge of the camp.

Amelia could feel the eyes of every man in the camp on her. They all recognized her. She kept her eyes downcast and tried her best to look like a runaway. She was pushed towards the large tent at the center of the camp while the other two girls were taken towards a large huddle of women, all of them chained to a series of posts in the ground. Amelia wanted to cry for them, but she couldn't. That would break her character, so instead, she made herself resolute. She _will_ free them.

Carver was waiting for her in the tent. He was tall and lanky and nasty-looking, with thin black hair and beady eyes that undressed her as soon as she walked in. It took all she had to keep from gagging.

"Listen," she whispered desperately, "please don't kill me. You know that I can fight. I'm a healer, too. I can be valuable to you."

Carver nodded. "You certainly can," he answered, raking his eyes up her body again. "What do you want in return?"

"Run," Amelia answered. "Make it look like you kidnapped me and ran. I don't care where you take me. Just get me out of here." She spilled out the same excuses she'd given to her captors: life as a Queen wasn't what she thought it was, Peter was too controlling. She craved the freedom of the life they had.

"Really, all I'm asking is that you don't chain me to a post," she said. She pulled her lips up in a nasty grin, when really she was clenching her teeth to try and control her nausea. Who knew acting could be so hard? _You're doing it for them. Remember, they'll be free because of what you're doing here. Do what you have to and run with them when it's time. _She repeated it like a mantra in her head to calm herself down.

Carver chuckled. "I think we can do that for you. Of course, you won't be able to spend tonight alone. You'll need to be... guarded. I'm sure you understand."

Amelia winked. "Of course." Her goal had changed. She wanted to free these women, but now she wanted it by the time the night rolled around. There was _no way_ she'd spend the night with this lecherous creep. She let her expression fall back to desperation. It was easier than pretending to actually be attracted to Carver.

"Look, can we leave soon? I know you'll have to prepare, but they'll know something's happened when I don't come back to Anvard tonight. Hell, they'll probably start looking for me by the time dinner comes around." That much was true. Peter was worried sick about her being out at all, and he'd probably be itching to come looking for her at the first indication that there was trouble.

Carver scratched his chin. "Alright. We'll get rid of as many of the stores as we can, and we'll head out tomorrow." He wagged his finger at her. "I wouldn't be so nice to you if you weren't so damn pretty. And a healer to boot! We've been looking for one of those for a looong time." He stood up and strode over to the entrance to the tent. At least he held himself like a leader. "Boys! We're moving tomorrow! You know what that means?"

Cheers erupted from the men.

Amelia stared blankly at them, completely lost. Carver caught her expression. "It means getting drunk! We have to empty the kegs at all costs! We can't be wasting any precious beer now. Now, be a good little healer and go take a look at some of my ladies. Me and the boys can be a little... rough with our girls. Go patch 'em up." He swatted her ass, and hard too, making her yelp and glare at him.

"Get use to it. We like it rough, us real men," Carver jeered, leering at her.

Amelia couldn't wipe the frown off her face this time, so she just nodded and let herself out of the ten to go see to the women. As she approached, the young blond from before caught sight of her and scrambled to get away. Her feet were bloody from walking without shoes. Amelia knelt down next to her. "Hush, don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you."

"You're with them!" she accused, tears brimming her eyes.

Amelia shrugged. "For now. But listen. I'm going to protect you. I won't let them hurt you okay? That's why I'm here. For you. Not them."

The girl still scrambled away when Amelia tried to approach again, so she gave up and stood. She knew who she had to attend to first. "Who spends their nights with Carver?"

A few women lifted trembling hands. Amelia looked them over first. She decided to go a quick once-over of everyone, and then decide who needs attention first. She didn't have much in the way of medicine on her, since all she had was her backpack, and that was mostly filled with Devil's Horn. What she could do was bind any injuries and offer a little bit of aloe to ward off infection. As she moved from woman to woman, she started asking quiet questions. "Who comes to fetch you when one of the men wants to bring you to bed? Does he have a key?"

A few of them gave different answers. Amelia decided that there must be a few copies of the key floating around. Carver was sure to have one, so she'd get it from him.

The men stopped their work and gathered around a campfire as two large kegs were rolled out. One of the men sat precariously on the edge of one (the top of the barrel was opened) and Amelia felt suddenly inspired. She jumped to her feet and hurried over to the camp fire. She pulled herself up onto the second barrel and grinned at the faces staring at her. She grabbed a mug from a pile sitting next to the barrel and filled it, taking a hearty drink. It was disgusting, really. Cheap as beer could get, but strong. "Do you boys like drinking songs?" she asked, batting her eyelashes at them.

To her surprise and great pleasure, they erupted into cheers at the idea, and started chanting "Sing! Sing!"

Amelia laughed and pretended like she was back with her Tribes, singing for the Angels and Hunters who raised her.

_As I went home on Monday night as drunk as drunk could be  
I saw a horse outside the door where my old horse should be  
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me  
Who owns that horse outside the door where my old horse should be?_

__

Ah, you're drunk,  
you're drunk you silly old fool,  
still you can not see  
That's a lovely sow that me mother sent to me  
Well, it's many a day I've traveled a hundred miles or more  
But a saddle on a sow sure I never saw before

And as I went home on Tuesday night as drunk as drunk could be  
I saw a coat behind the door where my old coat should be  
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me  
Who owns that coat behind the door where my old coat should be

_Ah, you're drunk,  
you're drunk you silly old fool,  
still you can not see  
That's a woolen blanket that me mother sent to me  
Well, it's many a day I've traveled a hundred miles or more  
But buttons in a blanket sure I never saw before_

Most of them obviously hadn't heard this song before, but were hooting with drunken laughter. Some of the quicker ones were starting to see a pattern and began to sing along._  
_  
_And as I went home on Wednesday night as drunk as drunk could be  
I saw a pipe up on the chair where my old pipe should be  
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me  
Who owns that pipe up on the chair where my old pipe should be_

_Ah, you're drunk,  
you're drunk you silly old fool,  
still you can not see  
That's a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me  
Well, it's many a day I've traveled a hundred miles or more  
But tobacco in a tin whistle sure I never saw before_

__

And as I went home on Thursday night as drunk as drunk could be  
I saw two boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be  
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me  
Who owns them boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be

_Ah, you're drunk,  
you're drunk you silly old fool,  
still you can not see  
They're two lovely Geranium pots me mother sent to me  
Well, it's many a day I've traveled a hundred miles or more  
But laces in Geranium pots I never saw before_

Most of them had caught on by now and were singing along, leaving only the item and the excuse blank for Amelia to fill in for them, and they often fell into fits of laughter when they heard the excuses.

_And as I went home on Friday night as drunk as drunk could be  
I saw a head upon the bed where my old head should be  
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me  
Who owns that head upon the bed where my old head should be_

__

Ah, you're drunk,  
you're drunk you silly old fool,  
still you can not see  
That's a baby boy that me mother sent to me  
Well, it's many a day I've traveled a hundred miles or more  
But a baby boy with his whiskers on sure I never saw before

And as I went home on Saturday night as drunk as drunk could be  
I saw two hands upon her breasts where my old hands should be  
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me  
Who owns them hands upon your breasts where my old hands should be

Ah, you're drunk,  
you're drunk you silly old fool,  
still you can not see  
That's a lovely night gown that me mother sent to me  
Well, it's many a day I've traveled a hundred miles or more  
But fingers in a night gown sure I never saw before

As I went home on Sunday night as drunk as drunk could be  
I saw a thing in her thing where my own thing should be  
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me  
Who owns that thing in your thing where my own thing should be

_Ah, you're drunk,  
you're drunk you silly old fool,  
still you can not see  
That's a lovely candle that me mother sent to me  
Well, it's many a day I've traveled a hundred miles or more  
But balls on a candle sure I never saw before _

The men erupted into applause and cheers. Amelia grinned, taking an awkward bow from her seat on the open keg. She used it as her chance. When she sat back up, she made like she was going to fall. She caught herself, but not before her pack fell off into the beer. She let out a cry of surprise and then started laughing.

"Ah! Looks like the beer is getting to me! Alright boys, come help me get my pack back! I need this keg drained as quick as possible! The man who drinks the most beer from this keg is the one I'll spend my night with tonight!!" she cried, laughing as they all scrambled to their drunken feet to fill their cups with beer from her keg. She grinned to herself. Devil's Horn was slightly less potent when it wasn't dry, but she had several years worth of it in her bag. It would certainly be effective enough for her purposes.

The men were practically fighting each other to get a drink from the keg. All of them, except Carver. She hopped down off the keg and walked over to him where he was sitting watching his drunken men with an amused expression.

"Not drinking tonight?" she asked casually.

Carver shook his head, his beady eyes shining with malice. "I like to be sober. I like to remember when I've done to my women the next morning."

Amelia shivered visibly. She decided that she didn't mind that he wasn't drinking. Once he realized that his men had been drugged, he'd probably attack her and that would give her an excuse to kill him. If he got drugged like the rest of them, she'd probably feel bad about killing him in his sleep. And there was no way she could let him live; not when he would just kidnap more women and torture them.

Suddenly, Amelia found herself with a blade poking into her side, just over her kidneys. She stiffened.

"What was in that bag, witch?" Carver asked into her ear, grabbing her by the shoulder and yanking her backwards.

Amelia struggled to keep herself from stumbling; too much movement would result in falling into the knife. "Aloe and mint, mostly," she lied. "Some of the men with weaker stomachs might get cramps tonight from the aloe, but nothing they won't survive. Most them will probably sleep right through it, given how drunk they are."

"If you're lying, you'll beg me to kill you by the time I'm done with you," Carver hissed, releasing her.

Yes, she was definitely going to kill him before the night was out.

------------------

It wasn't long after that before the men started passing out. Once it started, it took only ten minutes before the vast majority of them were asleep. The heavy dose of Devil's Horn assured they wouldn't wake for a good 18 hours at least.

Amelia counted herself lucky. Carver had disappeared into his tent for a few minutes right as the first few men dropped off. He didn't come back out again until there were only two left awake, so drunk and drugged that they probably couldn't even tell which way was up anymore.

Amelia had positioned herself next to the entrance of the tent, waiting for Carver to come back out.

When he finally stepped into the night and saw his men, he knew something was wrong. "What the hell is wrong with them?!" he demanded, stalking over to one and giving him a sharp kick to the ribs. "Wake up, you ass! Damnit!"

Amelia snuck up behind him and wrapped her fingers around the butt of his sword. She shoved his opposite shoulder, drawing the weapon from his belt at the same time. "I lied. I drugged them. No one is going to wake on time to save you," she said, lashing out at him. She made him stumble backwards without hitting him.

"You bitch!" he hissed, reaching for his sword. His eyes widened in realization as he took another look at the weapon in her hand. He opened his mouth to speak again, but didn't get the chance to. Instead, his found himself with his own sword sticking clean through his ribs, right at his heart. He collapsed instantly, his eyes rolling up into the back of his head.

Normally, Amelia would have felt bad for killing an unarmed man, but all she could do was feel grimly proud that she didn't make him beg for death, like he had planned to do to her.

It only took her a moment to find the key. She pulled it off his neck and straightened up on time to see Verila land on the ground in front of her with a thud.

"By the Lion, Amelia! I've been worried sick!"

Amelia frowned. "Peter's going to be furious. I'll be fine now. Go back to Anvard and tell them that I'm okay, and that I'm on my way back."

"I can't just leave you here!" Verila complained, ruffling her feathers.

"Sure you can. The only dangerous people here are either dead or drugged. I'll be _fine_," Amelia promised, running her fingers down the feathers on Verila's back. She was careful to avoid the jewel studded collar; the reward for saving Amelia, Susan and Lucy from these very men before.

Verila glowered at her, but took off anyways, heading back in the direction of Anvard.

Amelia approached the women, key in hand, ready to bring them home.

"You killed Carver..." one of them murmured in awe when she reached the stakes.

"You're going to be free now. I'm just going to unlock you. Before I do, though, you have to promise to do what I say. Don't go running off into the forest alone. We should stick together. Everyone will get home but we need to stay as a group. Running off by yourself is dangerous," she explained, looking each woman in the face.

They were gaunt and scared, but they understood. Many of them were likely captured by running off into the forest alone. They wouldn't be doing it again.

Amelia stared at the key and then at the woman. There were so many of them that she was sure to be here until morning getting them all freed, so instead, she kicked at the ring attached to one of the posts until it broke in half. She nodded. "Okay, we'll worry about getting the shackles off later. For now, just carry the chains and we'll get you out of here. Stay close until everyone has been freed." There were only six posts, and she went methodically from one to the other until they were each broken in half. "Alright, everyone is free. Let's go." She started to walk, to lead them out of the camp, but when she turned back, she realized that most of them wouldn't make the trek back to Anvard. They were all tired and malnourished and weak. Amelia would never be able to get them back to the keep by the time the morning rolled around, and they couldn't risk getting caught by the bandits, once they roused themselves again. She realized that she'd have to take them to the Tribes camp; it was the only safe place that was close enough, even though she couldn't be sure what would be waiting there for her. She prayed to Aslan that it wouldn't be Deirdre.

-------------------------

_Hurray! Okay this went WAY better than the last chapter :) This chapter brought to you by a combination of "These Boots" by Nancy Sinatra (I know, random) and "Call Me When You're Sober" by Evanescence. Now, what did you think? What do you want Amelia and her poor girls to find when they reach the Tribes camp? I'm always interested in your ideas... I'm also looking for how you think the Peter/Amelia reunion should go after her little stunt here :P Let me know in your review!! I'll write according to what I hear from you guys :) _


	22. Kiss and Make Up

K, I couldn't hold off any longer and so I'm upping the rating now, so while I'm sure no one will be offended, I figured I should warn everyone that I'm definitely making full use of my M rating this chapter :)

**Chapter 22 – Kiss and Make Up**

It didn't take long to reach the Tribe's camp. Amelia had the women wait in the trees while she approached the camp's edge. She almost couldn't breathe; she was legitimately terrified of finding Deirdre there. She was sure that the women would be cared for no matter who was at the camp, but she wasn't entirely confident that Deirdre wouldn't try to get some kind of revenge for her exile.

A watchman saw her first. He was sitting on a tree stump, looking bored out of his mind. When he saw her, he jumped to his feet, his hand going to his sword. "Who goes there?!"

"Princess Amelia of the Western Tribes," Amelia answered, stopping a several feet away from him.

He squinted at her in the darkness, his jaw dropping. "Amelia?!"

"Yes it's me, now who's this? I can't see you in the dark," Amelia answered, going a little bit tense when he took another step towards her but left his hand on his sword.

"It's me! Dagon!" he answered, throwing his arms open and laughing.

Amelia grinned, relieved. Dagon was an older Angel, one who had helped train Amelia and one who had stood by Adrianna when the Tribes split over the attempted assassination of Peter. "Dagon! Oh thank Aslan. I was worried I'd find Deirdre here."

Dagon laughed. "Not a chance! Adrianna took the camp as her base. She turned Deidre away a month or so ago when they tried to return, and threatened to send a message to King Lune that she was in the area. We don't expect to see her again. But what brings you here? And alone, no less?"

Amelia promised to explain and went back to get the women. As she led them into the camp, she told Dagon the story. He was familiar with Carver and his nastiness, but they hadn't known that he'd taken to kidnapping women.

They woke Adrianna and there was a happy reunion between the sisters. Amelia told her the story and Adrianna swore that the Tribes would keep a closer eye on the bandit activities. She promised they'd never be able to do anything so horrible as enslaving those women again.

"Where's Peter?" Adrianna asked as the two women sat down in a tent after the others had been taken care of and given a place to sleep.

"Anvard," Amelia answered, taking a long drink of the tea that Adrianna had just handed her.

"He let you go after Carver alone?!" Adrianna asked, shocked.

"He doesn't know I'm here. I went out to gather herbs this morning; I met the kidnapped girls while searching for Devil's Horn. The only reason he's not out looking for me already is because I sent Verila back to let everyone know that I was okay and I'd be back tonight," Amelia replied, looking sheepish.

Adrianna laughed. "He's going to be really angry with you, Ami."

Amelia shrugged. "I know, I know, but what else could I do?"

Adrianna just kept chuckling. "Well, if you promised to be back tonight, you'd better get going. The moon's almost set."

Amelia gasped, scrambling to her feet. "What? I only have a few hours until sunrise!"

Adrianna stood and gave her sister a hug. "Go, then. You'll come for a proper visit before you head back to Cair Paravel, right?"

Amelia grinned. "Of course, of course." Hugging her sister once more, she left the tent, waved to the handful of Angels milling about near the tents where the other women were sleeping, and then hurried off into the darkened trees, setting off at a run for the castle.

---------------------------------------------

When Amelia finally returned to Anvard, it was late, but she was still wide awake. Often, battle and stress would exhaust her, but occasionally, she would be unable to sleep for days afterwards, usually ended by a crash and a full day's worth of sleep. She still had yet to figure out what triggered her sleeplessness.

The portcullis was up; unusual for the time of night.

Amelia walked through the gate, her eyes darting around the courtyard. Someone had to be up, watching the gate. They'd never just leave it open like that. She didn't see him until he moved. She must have made some sound to alert him, because she caught the movement of his head lifting. She couldn't see the eyes hidden by shadow and blond hair, but she knew he was looking at her. Her heart sunk.

"Peter," she murmured when she got closer. Her voice was hoarse. She felt helpless knowing that he was angry. She didn't want to cause him pain like this.

She could see his face now. He was squeezing his eyes shut. His lifted his hands to his head, catching his hair between his fingers and curling his hands into fists.

"Why must you keep acting like your life is worthless?" he demanded, his voice quiet and seething.

"I don't think my life is worthless," she answered defensively.

Peter glared at her. "Then why do you keep putting yourself in situations where the most likely outcome is your death?!" he shouted.

Amelia jumped at the sudden change in the volume of his voice. She frowned, wanting to explain herself but unsure of how. "I couldn't just leave them!"

Peter growled, frustrated. "You should have come back! You should have told _me_ what was happening! Aslan knows, Amelia, I'd pull the moon out of the sky if that's what you wanted, to say nothing of taking some soldiers to save some abused women!"

Amelia dug her fingers into her hair, frustrated and upset and having a hard time explaining. "But coming back would have taken time! I couldn't leave them there! I couldn't let Carver touch another one of those women while I came back here to round up the army. Not when there was something I could do to save them right away!"

Peter took two quick steps forward and grabbed Amelia by the arms. "And what would have happened if you hadn't been able to escape tonight? What would have happened then?"

Amelia took a deep breath, willing the tears back. "Carver would have..." she breathed, unable to say the rest.

"What?" Peter asked, his voice deadly quiet.

Amelia shut her eyes. "It doesn't matter. He's dead. I killed him. He can't hurt me now."

Peter released her, letting out a roar of anger. He spun around and hit the stone wall behind him. When he drew his fist away from the wall, there was a dark splatter left behind, and his knuckles were dripping blood. He turned again to face her. "It _does_ matter because one day a miracle isn't going to save you! One day things won't happen exactly perfectly and you'll be left wishing that you'd listened to me and asked for help! How much value would you have been to those women if he'd killed you? None! They'd _still_ be there and no one would ever know to come and help them. By all rights, that's what _should_ have happened! You'd be dead, robbing Narnia of it's queen and me of my wife, and they would be no better off than they were before."

Amelia clenched her fits, angry. "So what would you have done, then?! Gone riding in with your army, swords swinging? And what if they held the women hostage against you? You'd have been helpless and any chance I might have had dealing with them _my_ way would be out of the question. And those women would still be trapped there!"

"We'd have had a better chance of succeeding if we had soldiers to back us up!" Peter answered, throwing his hands into the air with frustration.

Amelia took a step towards him, her hands on her hips. "That's funny, because I could have sworn my chances of succeeding are very high since I've _already succeeded_," she snapped.

"So what? You think you can do this again?" Peter asked incredulously.

Amelia took another step towards him so that they were standing literally toe to toe. "I'll do these things so long as there's a chance I can save these people," she answered, as if daring him to argue.

"You will eventually find yourself in a situation that you won't survive," Peter said darkly, his intense gaze matching hers.

"Give one life to save a hundred," she stated, as if it were the obvious solution.

Peter grabbed her by the arms again, but this time spun around and pushed her up against the wall. "You can't do that!"

"Why not?!"

"You're supposed to be the Queen of Narnia! You have to think about what's best for the country as a whole!" Peter said, his voice rising into a shout. "Losing you is NOT an option!"

Amelia pushed him away and took a step away from the wall. "This has nothing to do with Narnia! It's all about you. _You_ don't want to lose me. You're being so selfish!"

Peter moved towards her again, pinning her to the wall this time with his whole body, winding one arm around her waist. "Fine. I'm selfish," he snapped, his face barely an inch from hers. "I don't care. I've given my life and my soul to my country, but I'll be _damned_ if I have to give you, too." He kissed her fiercely. "You're _mine_," he growled, his mouth never leaving hers.

Amelia turned her her head away from his, but it didn't deter him even slightly; he just started kissing her neck instead. She almost forgot what she was going to say. "I'm still angry with you," she managed to choke out after a moment.

Peter laughed darkly, his breath brushing across the wet skin he'd just kissed, making her shiver. "No you're not."

Amelia turned back to face him and put her finger to his lips, cutting off his kisses for a moment. She took one look at his expression and froze, her words dieing in her throat. His eyes were piercing and full of lust and love. "Okay," she breathed weakly, taking a handful of his shirt and pulling him in for another kiss.

Peter pulled her closer and began to tug at the laces on the back of her dress, smiling against her lips when she started unbuttoning his shirt. He took his other hand and began to pull her skirt upwards.

Amelia abandoned his shirt once she finished with the buttons and began to undo his belt, moaning quietly when his hand brushed against the thin cotton pants covering her thigh. She unlatched his belt and slid her hand down the plane of his stomach and under his waist band, earning a low groan. She laughed warmly when he hardened in her hand.

Peter, breathing heavily, reached into her sleeve and deftly withdrew the dagger she had hidden there. He grinned cheekily, holding it up for her to see.

Amelia blinked, biting her lip in confusion. "What are you...?"

"Hold still," Peter ordered, pinning her against the wall again. Amelia held her breath when she felt the blade against her hip just below the waistband and trace the outside of her leg with a feather-light touch. Peter dropped the knife and gave the remains of Amelia's pants a sharp tug, tearing them clean off and making Amelia give a strangled laugh.

"Faster," Peter said by way of explanation, grinning impishly.

Amelia giggled breathlessly. "No kidding." She wrapped her legs around his waist, letting him press her into the wall. "Kiss me," she ordered, burying her fingers in his hair.

Peter laughed, pressing his mouth to her neck. "I'll do more than that, angel." He reached down and lifted her carefully away from him. "Ready?"

Amelia nodded, raking her fingers through his hair and grasping his shoulders. "Always." The next moment, he was inside her and she was biting down on her lip to muffle her cry.

Peter pressed her against the wall, trying to keep himself from collapsing. He froze when he heard footsteps approaching. He knew Amelia could hear them too; she was scanning the darkened courtyard, looking for the source of the sound. He pulled himself gently away from her and let her back down to the ground. He almost laughed aloud when he saw the look of disappointment and rejection on Amelia's face. "Come on," he whispered, taking her hand, "we can continue this is a proper bed." He did let out a soft snicker when Amelia's expression lit up and she grinned, nodding vigorously.

Ignoring the fact that he belt was still undone, Peter simply pulled upward on the waist of his pants, letting them hang loosely off of his hips as he led Amelia inside. Their state of undress would have made it entirely obvious what they were up to if anyone had seen them, but no one else was awake inside; any guards on watch were outside the keep.

Amelia pushed open the door of her bedroom; it was closer than Peter's.

Peter entered the room behind her and kicked the door closed. He turned to find Amelia pulling the last layer of her clothes off, kneeling on the bed facing him. Her skin was flushed with excitement and shining with sweat, and her hair fell about her shoulders in a beautifully unruly mess.

"Peter, please, I can't wait any longer..." she murmured, sinking her fingernails into the skin of his back as he climbed into bed on top of her, shedding his own clothes as he did so.

Peter grinned, pressing his lips to the hollow just beneath her ear. "Good, then I intend to go unbearably slowly..." he whispered. He let the weight of his hips and legs pin hers beneath him as he propped himself up with one arm. He ignored her soft words of protest and started to trace every line and curve of her torso with his hands and his mouth. When he reached her breasts, her protests became whispered encouragements, urging him to continue.

"My king," she breathed, knotting her fingers into his hair and guiding his mouth to hers. She began to grind her hips against his, making him growl. "Please, please, please, please, please..." she began to chant, shifting slightly to change the angle of her hips against him. When Peter shifted his weight, she locked her legs around his hips, pleased when Peter stopped breathing for a moment. He was positioned perfectly against her entrance, and the only thing in the world she wanted in that moment was to have him inside of her.

Peter watched Amelia through half-lidded eyes as he pushed slowly into her. He clutched a handful of her hair, his fist tightening as her long moan grew louder with every inch he went deeper. At first, he moved at a painfully measured pace, fully intending to make good on his promise to 'go unbearably slowly'. Perhaps it was his wording that ended up killing the idea; after all, if it was unbearable for Amelia, then it would certainly be for Peter. Every movement, every wordless moan, ever brush, every kiss loosened his grip on control, and soon he didn't care. He didn't care about going slowly, he didn't care if anyone heard, he didn't care about anything other than bringing her to that edge with him and crashing down the other side together.

Peter didn't often think about the other women he'd been with before Amelia, but they always came up in a small part of his mind in that split second on the edge. In that moment, all he could see was white, all he could feel was fire, all he could hear was thunder. With all the women before, he was always alone in that moment, unable to see or feel or hear them. Amelia was different; he never lost sight of her eyes in the white, her skin was always hotter to the touch than even the fire, and the thunder never drowned out her voice as she cried out his name. And in that moment, he always knew why the others could never hope to compare to her.

Recovering slowly, Peter pulled himself carefully out of Amelia and rolled over onto his back, pulling her limp form into his arms. He smiled when she mumbled something incoherent and rested her head on his chest. He started to go over their argument in his head and heaved a sigh. "You're going to be the most fantastic Queen that Narnia has ever seen."

Amelia lifted her head and looked at him with a confused, bleary expression. "Thanks, but why?"

Peter pulled her closer and pulled the blankets up over them. "Because you love your people. Each and every one of them. That's the kind of compassion every leader should have. Just promise me one thing, alright?"

"What?" Amelia asked, settling her head back down on his shoulder.

"Please be careful. Narnia would lose something unimaginably precious if something happened to you," Peter whispered, his arm tightening around her.

Amelia nodded, lifting her hand and blindly tracing the edge of his jaw with her fingers. "I'll be careful, love," she promised quietly, snuggling closer as she drifted off to sleep.

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Sorry for the delay in update. I like writing almost-smut, but it's REALLY hard :P No pun intended. --ahem--

Sorry for the bad innuendo! So, tell me what you think and if you want more lemons of a similar variety later on in the story. Review, review, review pleeeease!!

I heart all my readers!! Yay!


	23. Prepare

**Chapter 23 -- Prepare**

"It must be so nice to be home!" Mrs Beaver exclaimed, helping Amelia up onto the stool that was set up in front of three mirrors in the corner of a small sitting room in Cair Paravel. It had been almost a week since the royals had returned.

Amelia nodded, letting a young nymph help her into her dress. "It's wonderful. I missed it here. It's so busy though!"

Susan, who was standing in the corner opposite Amelia on a similar stool in front of similar mirrors, snickered. "That's because you won't let anyone else do anything to prepare for the wedding!" she exclaimed.

Lucy was stepping up onto a stood next to Susan. She started laughing. "You'll wear yourself out before the ceremony if you keep this up."

Amelia blushed. "I know. I just want everything to be perfect."

Lucy twisted around, earning a scolding from the dryad who was working on her bridesmaid's dress. "But you can't possibly inspect every single rose petal and thread of lace. You're going to have to let us handle at least some of it," she said, looking apologetic.

Amelia sighed. "I know, I know. It's not that I don't trust you... I just..."

Susan smiled, hoping down off her stool and crossing the room. "It's okay. It's your wedding, and you want everything to be exactly right. And it will be, I promise, but only if you still have enough energy to enjoy your wedding day." She wrapped her arms around Amelia's waist and pressed her cheek into Amelia's back, hugging her as tightly as she could without getting in Mrs. Beaver's way.

Amelia grinned and put her hands over Susan's. "Thanks, Su. I'll go have a nap this afternoon then. Someone else can supervising the cake baking. I want to come see the finished product though."

Susan was about to answer when the door knob rattled as someone tried to open the door. It began to swing open.

"Amelia? I--" Peter's voice began to issue through the doorway, but two lady fauns who were standing near the door practically threw themselves through the small opening and slammed the door shut behind them.

Peter stared at them, looking stunned.

The older one, blushing, bowed. "Apologies for being so abrupt, your Majesty, but it's bad luck for the groom to the the bride in her dress before the wedding."

Peter looked longingly back up at the door. "Amelia's in her wedding dress?" he asked, wishing he could see her. It wasn't fair. Susan and Lucy had practically fainted when they saw the design that Miss Day had drawn up and they hadn't been able to stop talking about how incredible Amelia was going to look ever since. And all that did, of course, was make him want desperately to see her in it.

"We're sorry, your Majesty, but you are not to be allowed in. Queen's orders," the older faun said.

"All three of them," the younger, added, grinning sheepishly.

Edmund trotted up to the group and, giving Peter a quick nod of acknowledgement, pushed the door open and stepped in, shutting it behind him before Peter could get a glance inside.

Peter glowered at the fauns. "How come _he_ gets to go in?"

"Because he's not the groom, Sire," the elder faun answered, taking Peter by the arm and leading him back towards his room.

Edmund looked completely out of place and a little bit uncomfortable as he picked his way across the room towards Amelia. "Adrianna is almost here. Come out to the court yard when you're ready."

Amelia nodded. "Oh thanks. Let's hurry up, then. I want to be there when she arrives."

"Of course, of course, dear," Mrs Beaver said, nodding and setting determinedly to work on the hem of Amelia's dress. "I'm almost finished here."

"Alright," Edmund said, looking around at the mess of silk, chiffon and lace, "I'll meet you in the court yard."

Susan, who was still standing next to Amelia, laughed and chased him out of the room. "That's right, Ed, you'd best get out of here before your become infected by our girly antics!"

"Too late!" Edmund called from out in the hallway as Susan watched him go. He twirled around on one foot and began to skip down the hall, imitating Lucy's high-pitched giggle perfectly.

Amelia nearly fell off her stool laughing.

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As quickly as she could, Amelia excused herself from the dress-fitting. Susan left shortly after to see to the cake preparation.

Lucy made her way out into the courtyard where she found Amelia and Edmund waiting. Amelia looked mildly upset and Edmund looked completely lost.

"Oh good, Lucy! You must help me," Amelia exclaimed.

"Good, you talk to Lucy. I can't even understand what the problem is," Edmund replied, throwing up his hands and heading back inside.

"What's wrong?" Lucy asked, worried that something might have happened so that Adrianna would not arrive on time.

Amelia scowled. "Well, I had planned on putting Adrianna in the barracks with the other Tribesmen. She hadn't been comfortable in the guest rooms in the castle. But do you think I should offer her the nicest guest room anyways? I'm sure she wouldn't want it, but she might be offended if I don't at least offer it to her. That way, she can say no if she doesn't want them, but she knows that at least I put her first. But then, what if she says yes for fear of offending me, even though she would really prefer to stay in the barracks? I have no idea what to do!"

To Amelia's great surprise, Lucy started laughing hysterically. "You can't possibly be serious! You know you're sister better than anyone, but she never struck me as the type of person who would care too much about which room you offer her. She'll just be glad to be here with you."

"Oh," Amelia breathed, relaxing. "Yes, that's probably true. I'm sure she won't mind if I put her in the barracks. I know she'll be more comfortable there."

"You shouldn't worry so much. It'll give you wrinkles," Lucy teased.

"So everything is all straightened out, then?" Edmund asked, coming back outside, this time with Peter in tow.

Amelia nodded, looking sheepish. "I'm sorry, Edmund. I guess the stress is getting to me. Every possible little problem suddenly seems like a disaster. I just needed some perspective."

Edmund shrugged. "I'm glad everything's alright. I would never have been able to figure it out. Thank Aslan for you, Lu." He grinned and ruffled his younger sister's hair, ignoring her protests.

Peter came to stand behind Amelia, wrapping one arm around her waist and resting his chin on the top of her head. "This is absolutely exhausting," he breathed.

"I know," Amelia answered, placing her hand over his and leaning back into him. "It'll be worth it though." She felt Peter let out a gust of air as he laughed silently.

"I never doubted that it would be worth it. I'd give the world for you."

"I love you, too," Amelia answered, smiling and shutting her eyes. She savored the feelings that washed through her every time Peter touched her. It was a welcome reminder of exactly why all the stress and exhaustion was worth it.

"You know, you two won't look so beaten if you'd let us do at least some of the work," Edmund noted casually.

"I know, I know," Amelia said, waving him off. "I'm going to take a nap after this. Susan's in charge for me." She twisted around to look at Peter. "You really should think about getting some sleep too, love."

"I think I might just do that," Peter answered, yawning.

The next moment, Adrianna's hunting eagle flew up over the ramparts, and the large wooden gates were opened, revealing the Tribes waiting on the other side.

"Amelia!" Adrianna cried, dismounting and running full-tilt across the court yard. She didn't even slow as she ran straight into her sister, pulling her into a hug. They would have certainly fallen over if Peter hadn't been standing behind them, braced to catch them as Amelia stumbled backwards.

"I'm so happy for you," Adrianna announced, grinning from ear to ear and placing a kiss on both of Amelia's cheeks.

"Thanks, Addy. Come on, let's get you inside and cleaned up. You must be so tired after coming up all the way from Archenland," Amelia said, taking Adrianna by the hand and leading her inside. She and the Pevensies left the rest of the Tribes to be taken care of by the stream of servants pouring out of the castle.

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Amelia was exhausted, and by the time the Tribes were settled in, it was evening. Just before she got ready for bed, she headed down to the kitchens, where she knew most of the Angels would be. The whole way, her mind was racing. She knew it was the right decision; he'd been her teacher and the closest thing to a father figure she'd ever had. On the other hand, though, she knew he didn't like attention and he wasn't particularly comfortable with displaying affection, so would he say yes?

When she arrived, she found Dagon sitting with several other men, playing cards.

"Dagon? Can I speak with you for a moment?" she asked quietly, touching his shoulder.

When Dagon looked up at her, he dropped his cards and got to his feet as quickly as he could. He knew from the look on her face that something was bothering her, and he was instantly worried that something was wrong with the wedding. "What's the matter?"

Amelia brought him into the hall just outside the kitchen, and bit her lip, looking up at him nervously.

"What's the matter?" Dagon repeated. Something strange was going on; he'd bend over backwards to help her, sure, but she knew as well as he did that he wasn't very good at much beyond cards and herbs, and he certainly wouldn't be very good at comforting an emotionally distressed bride-to-be... so why was she coming to him looking so upset?

"Umm... Dagon... Look, I..." Amelia stuttered nervously. She didn't want him to feel like he had to say yes. She had no idea how to ask him without pressuring him.

"Just spit it out," he encouraged, sounding kind despite his choice of words.

"Will you walk me up the aisle tomorrow?" she blurted, offering him an anxious smile.

Dagon's jaw dropped in surprise, and then he grinned widely. "Of course I will!" He pulled her into a tight hug, lifting her off the floor.

Amelia laughed, hugging him back just as hard while relief flooded through her. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She scrunched up her face as her cheek brushed against his stubbly one, but she couldn't stop smiling.

Dagon set her back down on the floor, still unable to wipe the grin off of his face. "I can't believe you want _me_ to do that honour!"

Amelia smiled shyly, hugging him quickly again. "I wouldn't want anyone else to. Thank you so much."

Suddenly, Dagon looked nervous. "What will I have to do?"

Amelia smiled reassuringly. "Just walk with me up the aisle, and when Peter takes my hand, you go stand with the other men in the wedding party. It's very simple. You'll do just fine." Amelia couldn't help but giggle; the relief on Dagon's face was obvious. "Someone will come get you in the morning to get you ready before the ceremony. I'll see you in the morning." And with one more hug, she headed off to bed.

It was all she could do to keep the idea that she would be Peter's wife by that time tomorrow buried; if she let herself think about it, she'd _never_ get any sleep.

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Bleh bleh bleh.... I don't like the ending.... but I'll have to deal with it, because I can't keep working on this chapter! I'm really sorry it took so long. I was having troubles with it because it's pretty much a filler chapter... next one will be awesome though :) Hurray for oodles of cuteness! Oh yes, the wedding will be FULL OF FLUFF! As it totally should be.

Reviews? Please?


	24. To Be Wed

**Chapter 24 -- To Be Wed**

"Amelia!" came Lucy's muffled voice through the door of Amelia's room.

On the inside of the door, the redhead rolled over in bed, not even fully waking to the sound.

Lucy and Susan burst into her room, each sitting on one side of her bed. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!" Susan sang, excited.

"By the Lion, it's the middle of the night," Amelia moaned, pulling her blankets up over her head. "Leave me alone!"

Lucy laughed. "It's nearly dawn, silly. Come on, why aren't you excited?! You're getting married today!"

"It's unreasonable to expect me to get excited about _anything_ at this unholy hour," Amelia grumbled in reply, still refusing to come out from beneath her covers.

Susan grabbed the top edge of the blanket and gave it a sharp tug, revealing Amelia's face. "You've been asleep since yesterday afternoon. I know you're tired, but oversleeping will sap you of your energy for the whole day. Besides, all you'll have to do for the next few hours is sit or stand where we tell you to and let the ladies preen you."

Amelia sat up and grinned sleepily. "You mean I can't just go like this, bedhead and all? Why can't I get married in my pajamas?"

Lucy shrugged. "You can do whatever you want, but I think later you'd like to remember a wedding in which you wore your beautiful wedding dress."

"Alright," Amelia said, holding her wrists out like she was submitting to shackles. "Take me away."

Susan took one of her hands and helped her out of bed. "You make it sound like _you're _the only one being tortured. Don't forget, Lucy and I are submitting to this too, and we're only doing it because you asked us to."

Amelia snorted. "You enjoy this."

"Well, yes, but still," Susan muttered, rolling her eyes at Lucy and guiding a half-asleep Amelia out of the room. "Come on, there's a bath waiting for you in my room. Lucy and I have already gotten washed up, so we'll be in here getting ready." She pushed open the door to the sitting room that was still devoid of couches and full of mirrors from the fitting. "Don't take too long!"

Amelia nodded, wondering idly if she might fall asleep in the tub. She entered Susan's room and pulled off her nightgown, settling into the warm water with a sigh. The water was full of lavender oil, and there was a cup of steaming tea waiting for her on the side of the tub. "And Susan expects me to willingly leave this heaven?" she murmured to herself, trailing her fingertips over the surface and relaxing completely.

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Peter was fast asleep by the time he heard footsteps in his room. He rolled over and rubbed his eyes. "Amelia?" he asked, his voice groggy with sleep. She was much later than usual.

"No, not Amelia. Were you expecting her for any reason?" asked Edmund, sounding suspicious.

Peter sat bolt upright, surprised, and rubbed his eyes. He yawned, trying to convince his mind to shed sleep and come up with a good explanation for Edmund. "I, um, I must have had a dream about her," he answered, running his fingers through his hair. The excuse sounded pretty flimsy to him, but Edmund appeared to accept it without a second thought.

"Alright, come on. Time for breakfast. The girls are getting ready in Susan's room, so you're not allowed anywhere near there, understood?"

Peter rolled his eyes and stood up. "Yes, Mother."

Edmund shot him a haughty grin and turned on his head to lead him to the kitchens. Except that Peter didn't follow. As soon as Edmund started down the stairs, Peter slipped down the hall in the other direction. Towards Susan's room.

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Amelia took her sweet time washing every inch of skin and hair. The only reason she got out when she did was because the water was getting cold. Climbing out of the tub and feeling a good deal more awake, she wrapped a towel around herself and slipped into the hall, ready to scamper over to the sitting room, when Peter rounded the corner and both of them stopped dead.

"Hi," she greeted, smiling shyly at him. She walked up to him to plant a quick kiss on his lips, but when she did, he wrapped one arm around her waist and held her against him, extending and deepening the kiss.

"I missed you last night," he breathed, cradling the back of her head and pressing his lips to her neck.

Amelia raked her fingers through his hair. "I know, I missed you, too." She placed two fingers under his chin and guided his lips back up to hers. "But just think," she whispered conspiratorially, "we'll get to spend the night together tonight, and we'll actually be allowed to! No more sneaking."

"I can't wait."

"I know," Amelia answered, pressing her hips against his. She giggled when she felt him twitch against her stomach.

Peter grinned impishly. "What, I see you wearing nothing but a towel and you expect me not to react?"

Amelia started trailing soft kisses up his neck, from his shoulder to just beneath his ear. "Hmmm... then I'm very excited to see how much more you react tonight. After all, I have to make it up to you since I didn't get to come see you last night," she breathed, smirking at the look on Peter's face.

"You're cruel to promise such things now and then make me wait all day," he answered, shivering as he started to lose control of his imagination.

The door to the sitting room slammed open, drawing both of their attention.

"Peter! What are you doing? Get out of here! I told you that you weren't allowed around here. Where's Edmund! He promised me he'd keep an eye on you," Susan scolded, hands on her hips and looking very terrifying with her hair half up in rollers.

Peter pulled away from Amelia, grinning unapologetically. "I gave him the slip. He's not particularly hard to avoid."

"Well! Get out of here! Go, go, go, go ,go!" Susan cried, shooing him away with her hands.

Peter laughed and jumped out of her path, planting one kiss on Amelia's cheek and murmuring "I love you," before disappearing back around the corner.

Susan scowled after him for a moment before turning back to Amelia, her face brightening considerably. "Now! Let's get you ready for your wedding!"

--------------------------------

Amelia tried her very best to sit very still for at least two hours while Miss Day, Mrs Beaver and several dryads and nymphs fawned over her hair, ensuring every strand of hair on her head was curled perfectly and sitting just so. They argued and cooed over the hundreds of colours and shades and styles of make-up. She only allowed herself a tiny bit of hope that it would all be over soon when Lucy came flouncing into her view, looking stunning in her navy blue bridesmaid's dress, all ready for the wedding. Susan appeared shortly after, looking unequaled in beauty. Surely if they were finished, Amelia's preparations couldn't take that much longer.

"Ohhh! I can't wait until you're finished!" Lucy squeaked, grinning. "You're going to look absolutely beautiful."

"I don't feel particularly beautiful," Amelia answered, cringing as a dryad pushed another pin into her hair, stabbing her scalp in the process.

"Trust me, you're going to look unbelievable," Susan assured her, walking all the way around her to see everything from all different angles.

It took another hour before Amelia was finally finished. She was dressed, her hair was perfect and her make-up flawless, or at least perfect and flawless enough for her torturers. She couldn't imagine looking so wonderful that it was worth three hours of being preened and poked by ten different women. Sighing with relief, she hiked up her dress and picked her way across the room so that she could look in the full length mirror leaning against the opposite wall. When she finally could see herself, all of her breath left her in one large gust, and she stared open-mouthed at her reflection.

Her dress was white silk. It had a plunging neckline edged in gold with sheer lace sleeves that started just below the shoulder and billowed outwards to the cuffs, which were also edged in gold. The bodice was covered in delicate embroidery depicting flowers of all different kinds. A strip of gold silk was sewn across the hips, forming a V at the front. The bottom of the dress was long and flowing, covered in lace that matched the sleeves, hemmed in matching gold silk at the bottom.

Her crown was much like her old one; it was a circlet of leaves and flowers, dipped in gold. The center of each flower was an emerald. Her hair was pulled up into an elaborate knot on the top of her head, with tiny white flowers scattered throughout, with much of her hair flowing out of the back of the knot down over the back of her crown.

Every little thing fit together perfectly so that if any part of her dress or her hair was changed even the slightest bit, it would not look so stunning on her.

"Lion's mane," she breathed, shocked by the reflection in the mirror. This was well, well worth the three hours. "You are the most absolutely amazing women I have ever met."

"Like it?" Lucy asked, sporting a face-splitting smile.

"Like doesn't even begin to cover it," Amelia answered, pulled a surprised Miss Day into a tight hug. "Thank you so much," she whispered. She hugged each of the women and thanked them each in kind.

There was a knock at the door.

"Amelia?" It was Tumnus. "Dagon is waiting for you. The ceremony is about to begin." He pushed the door open and his eyebrows shot up as Amelia walked up to him. "And might I say, you look wonderful."

Amelia smiled, clearly pleased by the compliment. "Thank you."

Tumnus looked back into the room and soon his eyes found Lucy as she followed Susan towards the door. He took a sharp breath in, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the sight of her wearing her rather form-fitting bridesmaid's dress. His reaction did not escape the notice of Amelia, who pressed her lips together in amusement but adamantly refused to comment on it. She knew Tumnus well enough to know that he would likely be so mortified that he would likely not speak to her beyond what politeness required for a full month. He was extremely easy to embarrass when it came to Lucy.

--------------------------

The Chapel Hall was decorated beautifully. There was a pulpit carved ornately into the likeness of a lion at the end of the hall, opposite the doors. A long red carpet ran from the doors down to the pulpit. The walls were lined with flowers and the guests themselves were dressed so beautifully and colourfully that they added to the decor of the hall themselves.

There was an ancient centaur standing behind the pulpit. Peter was standing just to one side of the pulpit, dressed in his full royal finery. He folded his hands in front of himself, shutting his eyes. His whole body was buzzing with nerves, excitement, joy and just a little bit of fear. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself down, when the small group of musicians standing just behind him began to play, signaling the beginning of the ceremony. His eyes snapped open and he watched as the wedding party began to enter the hall.

Lucy appeared first, arm in arm with Tumnus. The calm, sane part of Peter's mind noted how beautiful and mature Lucy looked. He also noted, with some disdain, that a young nobleman's son sitting towards the back noticed Lucy's beauty as well. He settled himself with the thought that Tumnus was nearly as protective of Lucy as Peter was; the nobleman's son wouldn't be a problem with Tumnus around.

Susan and Edmund appeared next. Susan was always beautiful, but especially so today. The dresses were well chosen; they suited each of his sisters extremely well, despite their differences. The eyes of every man in the room turned to watch Susan. Peter tried not to let it bother him; it was always like this with Susan. He knew Edmund would keep an eye out for her.

At last, Amelia appeared at the doorway. Peter had steeled himself, trying to avoid making too much of a fool of himself when he finally saw her. It was mostly useless, though; his jaw dropped and his eyes went wide, blinking a few times before he was finally convinced that the woman he was seeing was real. And not only real, but _his_. Wide windows running down the side of the room let the afternoon sunlight pour in. Amelia was illuminated in it. Her hair caught the light, forming a fiery halo around her head. She smiled when her eyes found Peter, and she and Dagon began their slow procession to the pulpit.

Peter's gaze never left her as she made her way towards him, and as beautiful as her dress and hair were, it was her eyes that captivated him. They were shining with tears the entire time.

One by one, Edmund and Tumnus came to stand next to Peter, and Susan and Lucy took their places on the other side of the pulpit. When Amelia and Dagon reached Peter, Dagon dipped his head once, watching as Amelia took Peter's hand. He took a step towards his place next to Tumnus, but paused, looking back at Peter. "You take good care of her," he mumbled, watching Amelia protectively.

Peter grinned. "I promise," he answered, chuckling at Amelia's blush.

Dagon nodded, satisfied, and moved into place next to Tumnus.

Amelia turned to face Peter, taking both of his hands, and the centaur began to speak.

"We are joyfully gathered today to witness and to celebrate the joining of two lives in marriage. Let us rejoice with each other in the making of this important covenant. The essence of this covenant is the taking of each other in entirety, as an everlasting lover, friend and companion. It is, therefore, a decision which has not been entered into lightly but rather undertaken with great consideration and respect for one another.

"We have come together in the hope that the love which has brought you both to this union may go out beyond itself into the lives of others. Let your marriage offer illumination and growth. Bask in the joy of shared discoveries. Let your union be strong so that you may endure the darkness. Let your union be joyful so that you may celebrate the light. Let the radiance of love never diminish.

"Love is patient, love is kind, and is not jealous; Love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.

"Having this kind of love in your hearts, you have chosen to share rings as the sign and seal of the vows you are making today. Let these rings which you are about to exchange serve to remind us that a circle is a symbol of wholeness, peace and unity. Your rings are circles which have no beginning and no ending. They are tokens of this growing relationship you have come here today to celebrate and confirm, emblems of eternity which can never be tarnished and which are without end, to show how imperishable is the faith that you shall now mutually pledge before all of Narnia."

Edmund stepped forward, producing a gold band from his pocket. Peter took it, his hands trembling.

"I Peter, take you Amelia, to be my wife.  
To share the good times and hard times side by side.  
I humbly give you my hand and my heart  
as a sanctuary of warmth and peace,  
and pledge my faith and love to you.  
Just as this circle is without end, my love for you is eternal.  
My commitment to you will never fail. With this ring, I thee wed."

Slowly and carefully, refusing to hurry the moment, Peter slipped the ring onto Amelia's finger where it fit snugly next to her engagement ring. He has struggled to keep his calm up until that moment, the torrent of emotions inside him always threatening to overflow. Once the ring was on her finger, though, feel felt a resounding sense of peace, like suddenly everything was as it should be. He took a moment to admire the simple wedding band and the way it sat on her long, slender fingers. Smiling, he lifted her hand and kissed the skin just above the ring. Now, everything truly was as it should be.

Amelia returned his smile, biting her lip to fight back the tears still rising in her eyes. As Susan gently placed the ring into her waiting hand, she began to speak.

"I Amelia, take you Peter, to be my husband.  
To share the good times and hard times side by side.  
I humbly give you my hand and my heart  
as a sanctuary of warmth and peace,  
and pledge my faith and love to you.  
Just as this circle is without end, my love for you is eternal.  
My commitment to you will never fail. With this ring, I thee wed."

Amelia slipped the ring onto Peter's finger, her lips turning up into a smile. Seeing the wedding band there for the first time, she couldn't hold back any longer and a tear spilled down her cheek. Laughing quietly at herself, she reached up and scrubbed it quickly away, only to have her hand caught by Peter. Holding hers, he brushed the back of his hand against her cheek, wiping away the tear track.

The centaur lifted his head regally and cleared his throat. "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Peter didn't get much of a chance to do anything, as Amelia wrapped her arms around his neck and practically threw herself into his arms, kissing him thoroughly, much to the amusement of the guests.

Breathing hard and blushing fiercely, Amelia pulled away only to have Peter pull her back to him again for a softer kiss. When they parted again, they turned to face the guests, all of whom were on their feet, cheering and applauding.

"May I be the first to present to you, High King Peter the Magnificent and his wife, High Queen Amelia of Narnia!" the centaur boomed, holding his arms open.

Arm in arm, Peter and Amelia led the wedding party out of the hall and into the courtyard.

As soon as they were outside, Lucy took Amelia's free arm and, pulling her away from Peter, hugged her tightly. "We're sisters now!" she cried as Susan joined the hug, not bothering to wait for Lucy to let go first.

"Welcome to the family," Susan said, planting a kiss on Amelia's cheek as she and Lucy finally released her.

The instant Susan and Lucy were gone, though, Edmund was there, pulling her into another tight hug. Grinning, he tightened his arms and lifted her off the ground, spinning around once before setting her back on her feet. "You're stuck with him now."

Amelia rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't exactly use the words 'stuck with', myself."

"Then you clearly have no sense," he answered, sighing. "Great, now I have another silly little sister to look after," he said sarcastically.

Amelia smirked. "I'm older than you."

"But you're also shorter than me," Edmund answered cheekily, chuckling to himself.

"Look out, Amelia," Lucy warned. "Now that you're his sister, you'll never hear the end of his teasing." She pulled Amelia away from Edmund and into another hug of her own.

Edmund tried to scowl, fighting back a grin. "Hey, I wasn't finished congratulating my new sister yet!" he exclaimed, tugging Amelia back towards himself while Amelia looked helplessly to Peter for help.

"Alright, now, if you're finished fighting over my wife..." he began, amused. He held out his hand expectantly, which Amelia took gratefully as Edmund and Lucy released her, laughing.

The rest of the wedding guests left the Chapel Hall then, and joined them in the courtyard. Peter and Amelia found themselves showered with congratulations and rose petals as they made their way across the courtyard and into the main keep, where the reception would be held in the Great Hall. Despite being the center of attention, the newly-weds rarely took their eyes off of each other.

Inside the Great Hall, a new throne had been placed immediately next to Peter's. Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy stepped up to the thrones and stood before the crowd, Amelia standing in the center, facing them all.

Peter spoke first. "Do you swear to defend Narnia against her enemies and to protect every creature living under the dominion of Aslan?"

Amelia inclined her head. "I do."

Susan's voice rang out over the hall next. "Do you swear to care for every creature of Narnia completely and equally, man or Animal, male or female, young or old?"

"I do."

Edmund spoke next. "Do you swear to rule over Narnia fairly, justly and with compassion?"

"I do."

Lucy smiled, the last to request an oath. "Do you swear to love our cherished Narnia with all your heart for so long as you live?"

Amelia lifted her gaze to meet Lucy's, and she smiled back at her. "I do."

Peter crossed the space between them and took Amelia's hands. "You are welcome to join us on the thrones of Narnia," he said. His words were solemn but his face was full of undescribable joy. He led her back to the pair of thrones and sat in his, motioning for sit in the other. When she did, the crowd erupted into cheers.

"Long live the High Queen of Narnia!" Susan, Edmund and Lucy cheered, each taking their own thrones as the crowd echoed them.

"Long live the Queen!"

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Jeeeeez. The last half-page of this chapter took longer than all the rest of it :P

So yay! They're finally married! I hope you all enjoyed the wedding :) More excitement to follow soon!!

As always, I love my reviews!


	25. Consummation

Wow. How extremely embarassing. I've had this finished for quite a while now, and I forgot to post it :P Sorry! But hey, on the plus side, my next chapter will be posted immediately after this one, as a reward for you all because you were so patient with me as I wrote TWO chapters without updating :P

**Chapter 25 -- Consummation**

The reception was a great success. There was dancing and drinking and general merry-making all around. Amelia graced the guests with a few songs and the first dance was like a fairy-tale, set to a beautiful piece written just for the occasion by a few of Narnia's most renowned composers.

It was just past midnight when Peter and Amelia finally said their goodbyes and left the party. Most the the guests were still there, and probably would be until the wee hours of the morning. Some part of Peter thought he should stay for a while longer, but the rest of him was looking too forward to spending the night with his wife to wait any longer.

Peter's room had become their room. At some point during the day, Amelia's things had been moved into the bedroom; her clothes were now neatly stacked in the closet next to his, the small collection of herbs that she'd left in her room to dry were now sitting in the corner, her jewelry sitting in a finely crafted box on the dresser, her weapons hung in the corner along with his.

Peter pushed open the door to his room, holding his hand out to keep Amelia from stepping inside. She raised an eyebrow, about to argue, but he silenced her with a sweet kiss.

Amelia all but melted into a puddle. That was why she was so disappointed when he broke the kiss early. She was going to voice that disappointment, but her words turned into a shriek as Peter swept her feet out from under her and lifted her into his arms, stepping into the room with a haughty grin.

"What?" he asked innocently, "A husband must carry his wife over the threshold on their wedding night."

Amelia sighed as Peter placed her carefully down on the bed. "You could have at least warned me first," she scolded half-heartedly, obviously more amused than upset.

Peter shrugged, sitting down next to her. He began to unbutton his jacket. "You love surprises."

Amelia grinned, sitting up and swinging one leg over his thighs so that she was straddling him. She pushed his hands away from his chest and began to work at his buttons herself. "I have never once told you that I like surprises," she stated with a smirk.

"Then let me rephrase," Peter answered, his voice husky and quiet. He let his forehead rest against hers, loosening the laces on the back of her bodice. "I love to surprise you."

Amelia pushed the jacket gently off of his arms and slipped her hands up underneath the plain white shirt that he'd been wearing underneath. "What kind of sadistic enjoyment do you get out of scaring me?" she asked, giggling.

"I don't love to scare you," Peter replied, placing his hands gently on her hips. He leaned forward, as if he was going to kiss her, and then, tightening his grip with one hand and moving his other hand up to cradle the back of her head, he twisted suddenly around, pushing her over onto her back on the bed and coming to rest on top of her.

Amelia yelped in surprise and pressed one hand against her heart, feeling it's quickened pace. "You do love to scare me! You just did it again!" she accused, her voice full of mirth. She reached up and pulled his shirt off over his head.

Throwing his discarded clothing onto the floor, Peter leaned down and traced her jaw from her chin to her ear with his nose. He kissed her neck gently, smiling to himself as noise of pleasure escaped her throat without her consent. "I don't love to scare you," he insisted. "But there is this face you make, right after the surprise passes... the moment you realize that I've got you, that I'd never let you come to harm, you smile in this particular way. I've never seen anything like it." He lifted his head to see a smile spreading slowly across her lips. "_That's_ what I love. Scaring you is just an unfortunate side effect."

Amelia pushed Peter gently away so she could sit up. She began tugging awkwardly on the laces at the back of her dress. They were loosened earlier by Peter, which only made them a tangled enough mess to make it impossible for Amelia to undo herself. "You should be a poet, love," she told him, frowning as her fingers got caught in the mess of silk ribbon.

Peter laughed and shifted his position so that he was sitting up behind her with her sitting between his legs. He kissed the bare back of her neck and pushed her hands away, deftly untying the knots. "A poet, hm? Why is that?"

"You know saying things like that is enough to make any woman swoon," she answered, knowing exactly the kind of triumphant smile that would be on Peter's face as she spoke. "Isn't that the ultimate goal of any romantic poet?"

Peter finished untying the knots and placed his hands on her waist, guiding her to her feet. "What can I say, it's a natural talent."

Amelia turned around and pulled her arms out of the sleeves, letting it fall into a pool at her feet, wearing nothing but a slip and a corset underneath. The corset laces were much easier for her to undo herself, so she reached behind herself and began to unlace them. "Or maybe you really do have a book of things to say to seduce women hidden in here somewhere..." Amelia answered, grinning.

Peter stared at her, bewildered. "I have a _what_?"

Amelia started laughing. "I heard once that your success with women came from a book full of wonderful things to say that would have any woman in your arms in an instant."

Peter stared at her. "I...you..." His face turned to one of chagrin. "You know that I've been with other women..." he observed quietly.

Amelia watched him, surprised. "Of course I do, love. I've known since before I met you. You had quite the reputation. It's alright," she assured him, leaning over and planting a chaste kiss on his lips.

Peter's eyes met hers. "It is?" he asked, incredulous.

Amelia finished with the last lace on her corset and let it drop, along with her slip, to the floor. Wearing nothing but her rings, she pushed Peter gently back onto the bed, straddling his hips and leaning down to rest her head on his chest. "It is," she answered.

Peter wrapped his arms around her waist, relieved. "None of them could ever hope to compare to you."

Amelia laughed, looking up at him. "I know. Otherwise you'd be married to one of them instead of me. And then where would we be?" she asked, her tone turning warm and quiet as she tugged on the top of his pants.

Peter grinned and rolled over so that he was on top of her. He stripped off his remaining clothes and trailed his hands up her stomach. "We'd be exactly where we are now. You would just have to have come in through the window, that's all."

Amelia let out a burst of laughter and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. "Peter Pevensie, that's a horrible thing to say."

"Nothing in the world would stop me from loving you," he breathed in reply, trailing kisses down her collarbone until he reached her chest.

Amelia arched into him, gasping. The conversation quickly ended as she forgot everything that wasn't his touch or his voice. Raking her fingernails up his back, she wrapped her legs around his waist and ground her hips against his, eliciting a low groan from him.

Peter explored every inch of her body meticulously. She was completely at his mercy, because every time she tried to move, he brushed his fingers against her core, which brought her down onto her back with a sharp gasp. He brought her over the edge once already before kissing his way slowly back up her stomach. Pleased with himself, he watched her chest rising and falling with quickened breath as she tried to recover.

Amelia had long lost control of her body. She went rigid as Peter finally slid into her and she felt herself rising over the peak for a second time, barely having finished with the first. She fisted her fingers in his hair, gasping desperately. "Peter, oh, Peter, I...." she mumbled, her words mostly slurred.

Peter realized what was happening almost instantly as she clamped down around him. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, groaning as she came for a second time. He wasn't even moving, but the grinding of her hips was nearly enough to bring him down with her. Wanting more, Peter started to move his hips slowly.

Crying out, Amelia locked her legs around his. "Wait," she ordered, breathing heavily.

Peter nuzzled her neck, kissing her skin fervently. "But I need you so badly..."

Carefully, Amelia pushed on Peter's shoulder, guiding him over onto his back. She moved with him, so she ended up straddling him. She placed her hands on his chest, shutting her eyes and waiting for a long moment to recover. She opened her eyes and traced the lines of his chest and stomach, paying particular attention to the long jagged scar across the abdomen.

Peter watched her with hazy eyes. He's never seen anything more beautiful than this angel, her bare skin shining in the moonlight. A small smile played across her lips as she caught him staring with an obviously awed expression on his face.

Amelia slid her hands up his torso, to his shoulders, and let her body fall forward. "Don't move," she whispered, shifting her hips slowly from side to side.

Peter suddenly found it impossible to form words. She moved so slowly, subjecting him to an exquisite torture, the likes of which he could never have imagined. He could hear her breathing in his ear. She gripped his waist with one hand and he could feel her fingernails digging into the skin over his ribs as her breath quickened.

Amelia released her hold on his shoulder with her hand and trailed her palm down his torso, feeling his muscles tense and relax with her movements. She began to move deliberately, searching for the things that made Peter tense his muscles. As she started to do those things more often, Peter's body started to move of its own accord. She kissed him heatedly, feeling the pressure building inside her again.

Peter couldn't breathe. He tore his mouth from hers, gulping down the air as his hips lifted from the mattress, pushing himself deeper inside of her and pushing him over the edge. He wrapped his arms around Amelia's waist and held her against him.

A sudden, sharp charge of sensation bloomed in Amelia's shoulder. It spread through her entire body, bringing her crashing down with Peter. She pressed her face against his shoulder, whimpering as the reverberations tore through her.

Exhausted, Peter pulled himself gingerly out of Amelia, still holding her tight against him. He shut his eyes, perfectly content with lying there in silence. When Amelia looked up at him, a dopey smile on her face, he couldn't help but laugh; her eyes weren't even focusing properly.

It was quiet for a long time. Both of them had returned to breathing normally and had regained their ability to think. It was Peter who broke the silence.

"I've never felt so satisfied in all my life," he said, sighing contentedly.

Amelia giggled, lifting her head so she could look at him. "I'm sure I know exactly what you mean," she answered, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Peter laughed. "That's not what I meant. I had never realized what I was missing before I met you. How much better life could be."

Amelia's smile turned soft and loving, and she traced the edge of his jaw with her fingers. "I know," she whispered. "I'm still sure I know exactly what you mean."

"I thought I had everything I could ever want at my coronation," Peter continued, his smile turning mischievous. "But I had no idea I was missing out on so much in the bedroom!"

Amelia laughed, hitting him playfully on the arm, and rolled over so she was lying on her back next to him, her head on his shoulder. It was the first time he could see the mark clearly.

Peter cringed. "I'm sorry."

Amelia blinked at him, confused. "For what?"

"That," Peter answered, touching the bruised skin gently.

Amelia jerked away from the touch, and strained her neck, trying to see it. "What, what is it? I can't see it."

Peter couldn't help but laugh at the odd angle of her head. "I may have... bit you," he said sheepishly, flushing.

Amelia grinned. "It doesn't hurt," she promised, knowing that's what he'd be worried about.

Peter reached out to touch it gingerly, but Amelia swatted away his hand.

"Don't touch it, that _does _hurt!" she scolded, laughing. Sher let her eyes wander over his bare torso, noticing a set of marks that she's left on him. "Look. We're even. See what I did to you?" she asked, blushing and trailing her fingers over the angry red half-moon marks on his side, left from her fingernails.

Peter just grinned in reply, rolling over onto his side and pulling her up against his chest.

Amelia sighed in contentment, reveling in the way they fit together; the way his hand fit perfectly against the curve of her back, the way her head fit snugly into the crook of his neck. She wrapped one arm around his waist, walking her fingertips up and down his back with a feather light touch. Her other hand was pressed against his chest, feeling his heartbeat. She giggled at the vibrations of his chest from his hum of pleasure.

Peter yawned and pressed his lips to Amelia's forehead, shutting his eyes. "Sweet dreams, angel."

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So what do you think? I like to think that my lemons are improving... but of course, constructive criticism is welcome :) I'm ALWAYS looking to improve some more!


	26. Lone Islands

**Chapter 26 -- Lone Islands**

Dawn found Amelia awake, having barely moved from the position she woke in. She was still lying in her side, her legs tangled with Peter's, her head resting on his shoulder. She was pushing Peter's hair out of his face while he slept, only to watch the blond strands fall right back into his eyes again. Her attention was elsewhere, though, and her gaze kept sliding down his face to his lips, slightly parted with sleep. Biting her lip, she tilted her head towards his and kissed the corner of his mouth, very gently. She pulled away quickly, afraid that she'd woken him. She watched him sleep for a moment longer and, satisfied that he wouldn't wake, she kissed him again. And again. And again. Each time, she grew a little braver. Pressing her lips to his for a fifth time, she traced his bottom lip with her tongue and was surprised to hear a small groan issue from Peter's throat. She tried to pull away, only to find Peter's fingers weaving through her hair, holding her to him.

Peter started to take control of the kiss, peppering smaller kisses on her face and neck. "For future reference, you should wake me up like that every day," he whispered into her ear, smiling sleepily.

Amelia sighed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

Peter shrugged. "I don't mind. I quite enjoyed it, actually," he answered, grinning cheekily.

Amelia nearly jumped out of her skin when someone knocked on the door, earning a laugh from Peter. She glowered at him, settling back into the blankets. "I'm not used to being allowed in here."

"May I come in?" Edmund asked from on the other side of the door. He sounded afraid of what he might find when he opened the door.

"Come on in, Ed," Peter answered, putting his hands behind his head and watching with a grin as Amelia gathered up the blankets around her torso to make sure she was sufficiently covered.

Edmund opened the door slowly, peering inside the room, ready to shut the door again at a moment's notice. "Breakfast is being served early. We were hoping to get a good last meal with you before you leave for the honeymoon," he said, averting his eyes awkwardly.

"Sounds wonderful. We'll be down in a minute," Amelia answered, giggling at the look of relief on Edmund's face when as he stepped back out into the hall and closed the door. She flung the blankets off and sat up, about to get out of bed, when she felt Peter's arms around her waist.

"Give me a few more minutes in bed with you," he explained, kissing her shoulder.

Amelia rolled her eyes but let him pull her back into bed. "You're absurd. We get to spend the next two months completely alone together."

Peter shrugged. "True, but that has no bearing whatsoever on what I want to do now."

Giggling, Amelia rolled over onto her side so that she could face him, and pressed her mouth to his.

They missed breakfast.

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As wonderful as it was to be home, and as beautiful as the wedding was, after having spent the entire week running around getting ready, there was little Peter and Amelia would have preferred than a vacation. They were set to spend a 2 month honeymoon on the Lone Islands; two weeks by sea to reach the villa, four weeks spent there, and two weeks to return home.

Amelia had never been on a ship before, so she spent much of the way to the Islands at the bow, enjoying the ocean spray and the endless view of water around her. Peter was overjoyed that she wasn't inclined towards sea-sickness; though he'd never experienced it himself, he'd seen it before, and had been secretly afraid of how the trip would turn out if Amelia was sick the entire time.

The villa was a beautiful old beach house, settled back into the woods next to a secluded beach. The ship's crew, while obviously a requirement for the journey to and from the island, were under strict orders to stay away from the villa. They stayed in the nearby town instead, only coming so close as the gate to stand guard.

The vacation was extremely relaxing. Peter and Amelia spent much of their days in bed, particularly for the first week. In fact, they didn't even leave the villa for the first three days. The time they did spend outside was spent swimming and sunbathing.

On the last day of their stay, Amelia had decided to go for a walk early in the morning. She was dressed in Peter's clothes, as per usual. She'd spent much of her time wearing his clothing since he was the only one who had the good sense to bring pants – Amelia had packed only dresses.

She was walking back up the cobblestone path to the villa and was surprised to see the ship's captain standing on the front porch. She was still far enough away that he wouldn't have heard her approaching. She watched him knock on the door, and after a moment, she saw Peter pull open the door and scowl when he saw who was waiting for him there.

The poor captain looked absolutely scandalized; Peter, who had been expecting to see Amelia, was wearing nothing but a pair of loose cotton pants. His chest and feet were completely bare, and he looked really quite upset at being interrupted.

"Y-your Majesty, the ship is prepared to leave whenever you are ready," the captain stuttered, bowing quickly.

Peter ran his fingers through his hair, sighing. "Alright, thank you. Tell your men they'll have time to have a meal if they would like it. We'll be down after we have breakfast."

Amelia watched the captain and Peter exchange a few more words, her eyes lingering on Peter's chest; she wondered idly if the scratch marks were still visible and if the captain had noticed them, a warmth growing in her belly at the thought. She waited until the captain was beyond the gate before she walked up onto the front porch and pushed the door open. She shut it swiftly behind her and tugged Peter's shirt off over her head.

Peter looked up from where he was stretched out on the couch, his eyes widening when he saw Amelia standing at the door stepping gracefully out of the pool of cloth on the floor. He tried to speak, but momentarily lost his voice as his beautifully naked wife straddled him on the couch.

"Let's have breakfast," she suggested, trailing her fingers up his chest, grinning. Some small part of her mind noted, not without pleasure, that her fingernails had left thin, raised trails across Peter's skin, still clearly visible.

"Breakfast," Peter repeated, still running his eyes over her body. "We've already had breakfast," he noted after a moment, placing his hands on her hips.

Amelia laughed and leaned over to plant a quick kiss on his lips. "But that's not what you told the captain."

Peter blinked twice, taking great effort to remember what she was talking about. It didn't help that she was kissing his neck and distracting him in the most pleasant of ways. "Oh," he said finally, "because I want a little more time alone with you before we have to spend two more weeks on the ship with the crew."

Amelia grinned and sat up slightly so that she could tug on his pants. "I imagined that's what you were thinking. So, let's have some 'breakfast', shall we?"

Peter sat up and lifted Amelia into his arms, standing and stepping out of the remnants of his clothes. He headed for the stairs, still carrying her easily. "Let's."

-----------------------------

On the second morning of their voyage home, Peter began to realize how much the past month had spoiled him; it had been just over 24 hours since their departure, and he was already feeling the need to steal Amelia back to their cabin.

It was breakfast, and Peter was poking at his food, thinking about the night before. It had been quite the amusing (and enjoyable) adventure, trying to get accustomed to making love on a boat. He'd been disappointed when Amelia hadn't been in bed when he woke up this morning, and he had a strain in his pants to show for it.

"King Peter?" a small voice asked. Peter turned to see the cabin boy bowing clumsily. "Queen Amelia is up on deck, sire. She'd asking for you. She's seasick."

Peter was on his feet in an instant, thankful for the distraction. "Take me to her," he ordered, already worried.

Amelia was sitting on the deck, wedged into the bow, scowling. She had a thick blanket wrapped around herself, but she was still shivering. She barely even acknowledged Peter's arrival.

"How are you feeling?" Peter asked gently, kneeling down next to her. He wasn't sure of what to do; this was not his area of expertise.

"I'm sick," she snapped, hugging the blankets closer. Her frown deepened and she buried her face in the blanket. "I'm sick," she repeated, sounding this time like she was about to cry. "I've never been seasick before. This is terrible."

"You may just need time to get your sea-legs back," Peter suggested, carefully draping one arm over her shoulder, tightening his hold when she leaned into him.

"Maybe," she agreed, yawning. She let out a choking sound and shut her mouth abruptly, pressing her lips into a thin line. She squeezed her eyes shut and began breathing laboriously through her nose.

"Are you alright?" Peter asked quickly, trying to determine the best way to make her feel better. "Amelia?" he prodded when she didn't answer. Still met with silence, he was going to ask again when he found his mouth covered by her hand.

As the nausea subsided again, Amelia opened her eyes and glared at him. "Do I look alright to you? Asking that is really not helping me."

Peter frowned. "Sorry. I'm just not sure what I can do to help."

Amelia sighed, offering him a slight smile. "There really isn't anything you can do. Though, it would help if you promise to ignore anything nasty I say to you when I'm not feeling well. I tend to get into a sour mood when I'm nauseous and I promise that I don't actually mean any of it."

Peter simply sat next to her for the rest of the morning, acting alternately as a provider of hugs and comfort, and a means of allowing her to vent her frustration the next. Amelia's mood swung sporadically, and true to his word, Peter let every harsh word roll off, mostly ignoring them and knowing that she could likely be in near-tears over how she was treating him in the next moment anyways. Truth be told, though, the mood swings worried Peter; he'd never seen Amelia acting so emotionally before, and he'd never seen sea-sickness cause anything other than a little bit of grumpiness, as one might expect from someone who's feeling sick.

Amelia, for her part, didn't worry about anything other than fighting off the next wave of nausea and taking naps in between waves. She'd woken up before the sky had even started to colour with dawn that morning, so she was extremely tired. She felt like she was getting a little bit better as time passed; the naps were getting longer and longer between nauseous spells. Eventually, exhaustion overtook her sickness, and she stopped waking entirely, sleeping soundly wedged between Peter and the bow of the ship.

So Peter let her sleep, holding her carefully and worrying over what might be causing such unusual symptoms. As much as he hated to consider it, the most likely explanation seemed to be that she'd caught an exotic disease from the Lone Islands.

A young cabin boy approached the king shyly, bowing clumsily and staring at his feet. "Is there anything you need, sir? I mean, your Majesty."

Peter smiled. "Not anything I can think of at this moment, thank you." He stood, lifted the still-sleeping Amelia with him. She didn't even stir. "Actually, I'd like to send a message back to the village. Would you have someone prepare a messenger bird for me while I take her back to our cabin?"

The cabin boy nodded enthusiastically. "Yes sir! Right away sir!" he exclaimed turning on his heel and freezing in place. "I mean, your Majesty!" he corrected quickly before he bolted off to do as Peter had asked.

Peter smiled to himself and took Amelia back to the cabin, anxious to get the message sent so something could be done to help her recover.

----------------------------

Amelia had mostly recovered by that night, and ate a huge dinner. Strangely enough, though, she was sick again the next morning. Over the course of the day, she began to feel better and again ate a huge dinner that night. It happened again and again, so that Peter became accustomed to waking up without Amelia next to him and heading to the deck to find her at the bow again, huddled up with her blankets. Her mood swings remained, though some days she leaned noticeably towards positive or negative reactions.

The messenger bird returned a few days later, to deliver a message that no disease with those symptoms existed on the Islands, though the resident doctor in the village did recommend dill or ginger to calm her stomach.

One evening, two days before the ship was set to arrive at Cair Paravel, Amelia and Peter were relaxing in their cabin, discussing her usual case of what had to be sea-sickness -- they had yet to come up with any other possible explanation.

"Do you think that you lose your comfort with the ship's motion when you sleep?" Peter asked, sitting down on the end of the bed to pull off his boots while Amelia stretched out behind him, reading.

"It seems the only logical explanation," she answered, flipping her book closed and sitting up. "Why else would I get sick only in the mornings?" She laughed quietly. "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd say I was..." she began, her voice fading into nothing as she realized that possibility. She shut her eyes, ignoring Peter's questioning expression, and began to count out the weeks on her fingers. "It takes two weeks for the effect to wear off..." she murmured. "The timing was perfect," she breathed, opening her eyes as staring at Peter, her mouth agape.

"What? What is it?" Peter asked, thoroughly confused.

Amelia looked down at herself and pressed both of her hands over her belly, her eyes wide with wonder.

Peter tensed, mistaking her expression for one significantly more negative. "Are you feeling sick again?" he asked, getting to his feet.

Amelia snickered. "No, come here," she said, holding one of her hands out to him. She smiled reassuringly as Peter sat cautiously down next to her, taking her outstretched hand. She guided his hand so that it sat palm down over her belly button, his fingers lacing together with hers. She smiled hugely, barely able to contain her happiness. "Peter... I'm pregnant."

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Tada! Worth the wait, my readers? But hohoho... I have a great big twist up my oh-so-fancy sleeves. --Insert further evil laughter here-- I can't wait to hear your reactions :) As always, reviews please!


	27. Magic

**Chapter 27 -- Magic**

Once the Narnian shoreline was visible in the distance, Peter began to pace, barely able to contain his eagerness to reach the castle and announce the news.

Amelia sat on the deck of the ship, wedged into the bow (this had become her favourite place to sit, even when she wasn't feeling sick), watching him and laughing. She found his agitation highly amusing. In the end, she had to drag him back down below decks so he would stop badgering the captain.

The ship docked and Peter and Amelia tore onto the beach. Peter barely stopped as he pulled Lucy into a hug, lifting her off the ground and swinging her around and around. Amelia leaped onto a surprised and bewildered Edmund, shouting out greetings between giggles. Before Edmund got a chance to ask why they were so excited, Amelia pulled away from Edmund and jumped Susan in the same manner.

Once things calmed down a little, Edmund crossed his arms, trying to keep from grinning at the wide smiles both Peter and Amelia were still wearing. "While I'd like to think that you two are just that happy to see us, I can't help but think that there's something more at work here."

Peter pulled Amelia into his arms, drawing her back against his chest and sliding his hands around her waist to rest over her stomach.

Amelia flushed, her grin widening even further. "I'm pregnant!"

In the ten minutes immediately afterwards, no one could move or form a coherent sentence, in the bundle of arms and bodies and with everyone shouting and laughing. The rest of the court, who had gathered but weren't close enough to understand what triggered the confusing mass of hugs, was staring at the royal family with complete bewilderment. It wasn't until Lucy let out a shriek, "I'm going to be an Auntie!", that a murmur of surprise and delight washed through the crowd. The next moment, everyone seemed to have something to do.

Within the hour, everyone in the villages near the castle already knew about the pregnancy, Verila was well on her way to Beaversdam to fetch Miss Day so that fittings for new dresses for Amelia could begin, a feast of celebration was being planned, messengers were on their way directly to visit Anvard, Calormen and the Tribes, and already Amelia was being pampered as if she was so huge that she couldn't walk, despite being perfectly fit to do everything she had done before the honeymoon. She didn't argue; she just let everyone pamper her. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't have allowed it, but she knew from experience that this was the way a pregnant woman was always treated. Even in the Tribes during the winter, where there was never enough people to do all the work that needed to be done, a pregnant woman was never allowed to do anything beyond only the easiest tasks.

Within a month, the Archenlander royalty arrived at Cair Paravel to visit and offer their congratulations.

The Narnian royals and their guests were just finishing dinner when Tumnus burst into the room, breathing heavily. "Your Majesties! Wonderful news! The White Stag has been spotted just south of Cair Paravel."

"Have the horses prepared for us to leave by dawn tomorrow," Peter answered. He turned to Lune, grinning. "Care to join us on our hunt?"

Lune was about to answer when Corin jumped up out of his seat. "I wanna come too, I wanna come too, I wann-aaaaachooo!" he exclaimed, his chant ending with a resounding sneeze. He snuffled, rubbing his nose.

"Bless you!" Lucy said, smiling at him.

Lune laughed and ruffled his son's hair. "My dear boy, I think you might be coming down with something. Perhaps it would be best if you stayed here."

Corin scowled. "But I don't wanna stay here!"

"I could try to find him some medicine tonight so that he might be able to join us tomorrow," Amelia offered.

Lune looked surprised. "You intend to come with us?"

"Of course! At the very least, I should be there in case there's an accident," Amelia answered. She stood up, offering her hand to Corin. "Come with me, and we'll see if we can get you fixed up."

Corin nodded and took her hand, sneezing loudly again. She led him upstairs to her room and sat him down on the bed, kneeling on the floor in front of him.

"Now, do you have a headache?"

Corin shook his head.

"Do you eyes feel itchy?"

A nod.

"How is your tummy feeling?"

Corin rubbed his nose again. "Full."

Amelia smiled. "But not bad?"

"No, it's okay," Corin answered. A breeze tossed the curtains up, bringing in the scent of the sea and the rare sand roses that were in bloom on the beach. Corin scrunched up his nose and sneezed violently.

Amelia nodded to herself and stood up, going out onto the balcony and peering down onto the beach. The sand roses were extraordinary, both in the way they thrived in sand, and the way they bloomed in the late fall, when all other flowers were long gone with the summer. There was a yellow haze hanging over the them as they swayed in the evening breeze. "Alright, Corin, I have a special surprise for you."

Corin perked up, watching her with wide eyes. "What kind of surprise?"

"Have you met Mr. Tumnus before?" Amelia asked, holding her hand out to Corin again.

"Oh yes, he's the faun who's friends with Queen Lucy, right?"

"Right. Did you know he can play a magical pipe?" Amelia asked, guiding him out of the bedroom and down several flights of stairs.

"Really? A magic pipe? What's so magic about it?" Corin asked curiously.

"Well, how would you like it if he showed you the kind of magic it can make?" Amelia asked, lifting the little boy off the floor and carrying him down the hallway. It was lit with torches and the air always felt damp. The doors lining the walls led into bedrooms for those Narnian creatures who preferred living underground. Tumnus' bedroom was one of these. She knocked and the faun opened, looking surprised.

"Good evening, what can I do for you?" he asked, watching the still-sniffling Corin curiously.

Amelia smiled apologetically. "Corin wanted to see you. He heard about your pipes and he wants to hear you play."

Tumnus's features lit up immediately. "Of course! Come in, come in."

Tumnus's room was set up exactly like his old home in the Lantern Waste had been. Amelia remembered it faintly from when she was very young; Tumnus had been a close ally of the Tribes, until the Witch had gotten to him and forced him to act as her servant. She remembered that Tumnus was the one Deirdre brought her to when she was first found in the snow; his home was the only warm, safe place to hide at the time.

Amelia sat on the carpeted floor, feeling like a child again. Corin sat in her lap, watching Tumnus with wide eyes as the faun got out his pipes and began to play. It didn't take long for Corin to become completely enchanted by the tune.

It was hours before Amelia realized how much time had passed. Corin was half asleep. Once Tumnus finished his peice, Amelia lifted Corin off her and stood up. "Thank you very much, Tumnus. We quite enjoyed that." She took Corin's hand. "Are you feeling better now?" she asked.

Corin paused, thinking about it, and then gasped. "I'm all better! That really _was_ magic! WOW!" he cried, bolting out the door, shouting something about telling his daddy.

Tumnus was watching Amelia curiously. "Magic?"

Amelia blushed. "Corin was allergic to the sand rose pollen, so I brought him down here to see if the symptoms would go away. I may have told him that your pipes are magical, and I imagine now that he thinks you healed him with your music."

Tumnus laughed. "I see. Well, I hope I don't have the sick showing up at my door looking for my miracle pipes."

Amelia nodded. "Don't worry, I'll make sure Lune knows what really happened," she assured him, following Corin down the corridor. "Goodnight, Tumnus!"

"Good night, your Majesty!"

------------------------------------

The next morning was a stunning a morning as they could have hoped for. The air was crisp and cool, just cold enough that they could see puffs of breath from the horses very early in the day. It wasn't until midday that Corin demanded an explanation.

"Why are we just hunting for a white stag? Wouldn't any stag be okay?" he asked loudly, to no one in particular.

"We're not just hunting for any white stag, Corin," Lucy answered, laughing to herself. "We're hunting for a very special one. They say that if you catch him, he'll grant you a wish."

Corin's eyes bugged out. "Any wish?! I wish for a... I wish for the biggest horse in the whole world! Or I wish that Daddy would let me practice swords with the soldiers!" he cried, bouncing in the saddle of his little mare, who looked rather perturbed at the motion. "What would you wish for, Lucy?"

"I hadn't thought about it, to be quite honest," Lucy answered, trying to think of something to wish for.

"Just keep it simple, Lu," Edmund said, riding up beside her. "A long and happy life is all I'd want, myself. And the same for my family... well, and the continued peace and prosperity of Narnia, of course."

Lucy shrugged. "I think that if Narnia was not peaceful and prosperous, then we wouldn't be happy, so the wish for happiness seems to cover everything. That's a very good wish, Ed."

Just then, a horn sounded from the front of the pack, and Edmund kicked Philip into a gallop to catch up. Amelia tried to join him, but Farheart stayed stubbornly at a brisk walk.

"I'm sorry, but you are in no state to be chasing down stags, honey," the mare answered, tossing her head.

Lucy giggled, Susan joined them, and the three women spent the rest of the day discussing the possibility of a baby shower.

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Guys, I'm so sorry this took so long. Not only am I super busy, but I'm honestly encountering a strange sort of writer's block where I'm fighting with myself over what should happen next. This may last for a couple more chapters, but things are slowing down so I'll drill through these and I should get back to my usual enthusiasm. Thank you a million times for sticking with me and I PROMISE it'll be worth it when you see what I've got in store! Reviews would be lovely :)


	28. Christmas

**Chapter 28 -- Christmas**

Though the hunt for the White Stag was unsuccessful, the party returned to Cair Paravel in high spirits, thankful for a last excuse to go out on such an expedition before the arrival of winter. King Lune and his family left shortly thereafter, in an effort to return to Anvard before the snows came.

For the next several months, the Pevensies remained in Cair Paravel, kept in by snowfalls heavier than any they'd seen in years, which, of course, led to many, many snowball fights.

As soon as a bump became visible on Amelia's belly, either Peter or Lucy (or sometimes both) had their hands on her stomach almost all the time. Thankfully for the young mother-to-be, Susan and Edmund waited to be invited, opting to show their love for her and her child by instead quietly taking on some of her work around the castle so that she could rest.

Christmas eve arrived quickly, and with it came the annual Christmas ball. It was a lovely night, with the Great Hall decorated in varying shades of red and green. To no one's surprise, Peter and Amelia retired early; Amelia was beginning to find that she had less energy all the time.

"My movements are becoming really quite clumsy," Amelia said, struggling to remove her dress in their room later that night. "I feel so awkward all the time!"

"You're beautiful," Peter assured her warmly, untying the laces on the back of her dress. He pushed the velvet off her shoulders, his hands following the fabric down her body until they reached her stomach. Letting his hands rest gently on her round belly, he pulled her backwards against his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Amelia blushed and grinned bashfully. Peter was constantly complimenting her like that, awed and fascinated by Amelia's changing body and knowing that his child was growing inside of her. Sighing, she pulled out of his arms and landed ungracefully in bed. "Oof. I'm much more top-heavy than I used to be."

Peter laughed and got into bed next to her, pulling the blankets up over both of them. "You're really quite adorable," he said, grinning when Amelia blushed again.

"And you're really quite absurd," she answered, blowing out the candle on the bedside table.

------------------------

Lucy was up first on Christmas morning, as she always was. She ran down the hallway, from bedroom to bedroom, banging on the doors and shouting, "St Nicholas is coming! Get up, get up, get up!"

Amelia was the first one up after Lucy; she left Peter in bed, since he'd barely woken to Lucy's shouting in the first place. "Morning, Lucy."

Lucy, who had her back to Amelia, spun around and skidded across the stone floor towards her. She stopped right in front of Amelia and pressed her hands to Amelia's round belly. "Kicks yet?" she asked, like she'd done every morning since Amelia and Peter had returned from their honeymoon.

Amelia laughed. "Oh, Lucy, I'm only four months. No kicks for a while, yet." She paused and let out a strange sound like a strangled laugh, circling her hands over her belly.

Lucy gasped. "Kicks?" she asked, following Amelia's circles with her own hands.

"You won't be able to feel it, but the baby is moving," Amelia answered, swallowing hard. "Oh! It feels like I've swallowed a bird!"

Susan peered out into the hallway and took in the strange look on Amelia's face. "Is everything alright?" she asked, moving towards them with some concern.

Lucy giggled. "Oh yes. The baby is fluttering!"

Susan gasped. "You can feel it?!" She took a quick step towards Amelia, her hands outstretched. She stopped before she touched Amelia's belly though, using all of her willpower to keep from following Lucy's lead and running her hands all over her sister-in-law's rounded belly.

"No, not me, but Amelia says it feels very strange to her," Lucy answered while Amelia simply stared down at herself in awe.

"Good morning ladies," Edmund greeted, stretching and yawning as he stepped out of his room. "Let's head down to breakfast. I'm starving."

Susan rolled her eyes. "After everything you ate last night, you're hungry?"

"I'm starved," Peter agreed, stepping out into the hallway with the rest of them and yawning absently.

As if in answer, a very unusual growling sound issued from Amelia's belly and everyone stared in shock, wondering if that sound had come from the baby.

"Oh relax! It was my stomach growling. I'm eating for two here, you know!"

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It was midmorning by the time a young servant came rushing into the Great Hall with news of Saint Nicholas's arrival. "He's nearly at the gate, Majesties!"

Lucy shrieked with excitement and ran after the servant boy. She didn't even bother to change into proper clothes; she simply pulled a woolen cloak over her nightgown and pulled her boots onto her bare feet. She had gone out into the courtyard to greet their guest, welcomed him inside and both of them had shed their heavy coats and boots by the time the others were finished changing for the day. It was a Christmas morning tradition.

Peter, grinning from ear to ear, pulled their elderly guest into a hug. "Welcome back to Cair Paravel, Saint Nicholas."

The other Pevensies greeted Santa just as warmly. To the surprise of each of them, Saint Nicholas did not congratulate Peter and Amelia for Amelia's obvious pregnancy. They didn't exactly take offense, but it was usual for a guest who had not yet seen the couple since the pregnancy was announced to at least make some comment. Still, St. Nicholas was very different from anyone else, in Narnia or otherwise, so perhaps he meant nothing by it.

Most of the residents of the castle were in the Great Hall when they returned, gathered by the young servant boy and his friends. Saint Nicholas handed out his gifts to everyone. As people received their presents, they began to trickle out of the hall to enjoy them with their families and friends. Soon, there were only a few groups of people who had gathered in the corners of the hall, and the Pevensies were left in the center with Saint Nicholas.

Saint Nicholas smiled at Lucy, who was nearly jumping up and down in her excitement. "Dear Lucy, I've brought something very special for you this year," he said, chuckling as Lucy's jaw dropped and her eyes went as wide as saucers. He pulled a book and two large bag covered in many pockets from his sack. "I understand that you're learning more about the healing arts, ladies," he said, handing one bag to each Lucy and Susan and showing them the cover of the book. "Those bags are filled with the rarest, most valuable herbs from Narnia and beyond. And this book will teach you how to use them. Study well, so that you may be ready when you need these medicines the most."

"We will. Thank you, Saint Nicholas." Susan and Lucy nodded solemnly and hurried over to sit by a window to start reading their new book.

Saint Nicholas turned to Edmund next. "This is a gift for both you and your valiant steed. I know you are very close to Philip, and that he is growing older. Ensure that he gets a handful of these once a week and he will remain in good health." He pulled a large bag of a very unusual looking type of oat from his sack, and gave these to Edmund.

Edmund grinned. "Thank you, thank you, I'll start giving these to him right away!" He hauled the bag up over his shoulder and set off at nearly a run towards the stables.

"Now, Peter, this gift may seem strange to you, but you will understand it in time. It will prove most valuable." Saint Nicholas pulled a delicate chain from the sack, with a small silver locket hanging from it. It looked very old; it had obviously been shined and well taken care of, but the latch was stuck.

Peter smiled, staring at the locket and wondering what secrets it held. "Thank you. I'll go see what I can do to get it open."

Saint Nicholas just smiled knowingly as Peter walked over to a group of people who were lingering in a corner of the hall, one of whom was a silversmith. He turned to Amelia, who was running her fingers absently over her belly. "To you, Amelia, there is no gift I can give greater than that which you already have."

Amelia grinned up at him, placing both hands on her belly. "I know. This child means the world to me already."

Saint Nicholas shook his head gently. "A child is truly a gift, but it is not of the child that I speak," he said, looking up to where Peter was watching the silversmith inspect the locket with rapt attention. Amelia's eyes found Peter as well, and she smiled as she saw how obvious his respect for the other man's art was. Saint Nicholas began to speak again, suddenly. "He loves you more than the world. He will be your strength, if you let him." He looked at Amelia, catching her gaze was a expression so solemn and sad that it startled her. "You _must_ let him."

Amelia didn't get a chance to ask him what he meant. In only an instant, Saint Nicholas's face returned to its usual jolly expression, and he announced that he had to leave, "for there are many more presents to deliver!"

Amelia watched him leave, her mind in a whirl. It sounded like a warning, but of what? Things were going so well, and there was nothing to indicate that anything would change. What could she possibly need Peter's strength for? Would there be war? Maybe an outbreak of disease? She tried to avoid thinking about it, but it was like trying not to think about a purple elephant. Her dampened mood did not escape the notice of her family, but she passed it off as another mood swing. She wouldn't worry them with silly riddles, especially when there wasn't anything obvious to be worried about. Besides, the warning was obviously meant for her, and her alone. So she brooded over it for a few days, and forgot it a few days after that, convincing herself that she simply must try to keep from cursing Peter as much during childbirth as she often saw other women do to their husbands. She returned to her usual happy, if tired, self, if only for a few months.

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Dun dun dun! Guys I'm so sorry for the delay in updates... I've been away, I've been moving into a new house, I've been having trouble getting internet in the new house... but happily, everything is worked out now and my life should regain some semblance of normalcy. That means I should have more time to work on this fic, so I'll be updating more regularly from here on out. I love you all and thank you so much for sticking with me!

I don't usually ask so outwardly, but I'm having a hard time with getting the motivation to write next chapter (you'll understand when you read it), so some extra motivating reviews would really help me along, everyone. Thanks so much!


	29. Broken

**Chapter 29 - Broken**

Two months passed. Amelia's mood swings seemed to be improving, but now, when she feel into anger or sadness, it lasted longer and it was more difficult to bring her out of it. Something seemed to be fueling it, but no one could guess at what. Not that anyone was spending any large amount of time guessing; it was easy to forget an underlying suspicion like that when her moods were at a high.

Soon, Amelia began going to bed immediately after dinner more often than not, complaining of stomach cramps. The ladies of the castle doted over her, bring her advice on how to deal with the pain, or secret family recipes for soup that would be sure to clear up those cramps. They very rarely worked, but Amelia liked having the extra company most nights, so she never told them so. She would fall asleep fairly quickly, though, so the ladies would sneak out of the bedroom, tittering and giggling about how much her stomach has grown and how beautiful the child is sure to be. Once the coast was clear, Peter would make his way up to the bedroom, kiss Amelia's forehead as she slept, and join her in bed.

It was one such night that Peter awoke to the sound of screaming.

Disoriented and bleary-eyed, he threw himself out of bed, staring wildly around and searching for the source of the sound. When he laid eyes on Amelia, he neared collapsed; the sheets wrapped around her misshapen form were dyed red with blood in the bright moonlight. It was streaked across her face and clumped in the tangles of her curly hair. She was crying and heaving and screaming out incomprehensibly. Her muscles spasmed, throwing her into unnatural shapes as she tried to escape the pain, but each time they released, her fingers returned to her belly, clawing and pinching, tearing the cloth covering the stretched skin.

Peter landed on his knees on the bed beside her and grabbed her hands in an effort to keep her from hurting herself. He couldn't hold on, though, when she wrenched her arms violently away from him, hissing with rage, and continued attacking her own body. Peter tried holding her face instead, forcing her to look at him even as she tried to pull away from his grasp.

"Amelia! Amelia, look at me, what's wrong? What is it?"

The bedroom door slammed open as Amelia screamed out, "Get him out, get him out, get him out!"

"Oh, Aslan, no!" Susan moaned, rushing into the room. She pressed her hands firmly against Amelia's belly, earning another scream and a violent scratching attack from Amelia that drew blood. Susan barely even noticed it. "Lucy! The bag! Now! Ed! Find me every single healer in the castle and bring them here immediately! Go!" she shouted, sending her two younger siblings into action from where they stood stricken, watching from the doorway.

Peter looked back and forth between Susan and Amelia, dazed and shocked. "What is it? Is she going to be alright?"

"She'll be fine, now be useful and restrain her," Susan snapped, rolling up her sleeves and untangling the sheets wrapped around Amelia's legs.

"Restrain her?!" Peter repeated, choking.

Susan glowered at him. "I can't promise that this won't hurt, and I can't have her attacking the healers while they work. Now do as I say or get out."

Peter hesitated, but it didn't matter because in the next moment, a stream of people entered the room. Two burly men stationed themselves on either side of the bed, prepared to do exactly what Peter could not.

An elderly woman, the castle's senior healer since the thrones had been filled and the only one considered Amelia's equal, took Susan's place at the end of the bed. With practiced hands, she tore open Amelia's nightgown, and for the first time, Peter saw the source of the blood.

"The baby?!" he rasped, lurching towards Susan and falling to his knees.

Susan placed a comforting hand on Peter's shoulder but found that she couldn't bring herself to speak, to confirm the horror, so she turned to the elderly woman at the end of the bed.

"It's too late," the healer said, with a note of apology in her voice amidst the grim concentration. "Now we must do everything we can to save our queen."

Lucy burst in the room next, hauling behind her the pack full of rare herbs that had been their gift. "I have something that will help to stop the bleeding," she panted, pulling open one of the pouches and producing a vial of liquid. "But we can't use it if there's still hope..."

"There is none. If we don't stop the bleeding now, we may well lose her Majesty as well," the healer said firmly, ignoring the moan from Peter.

Lucy swallowed hard and nodded, crawling up the bed to sit next to Amelia. She uncorked the top and held it over Amelia's face. "You have to take this, please," she said, her voice shaking.

Amelia started sobbing. "No, no, you'll kill him..."

Lucy hiccuped, covering her mouth with one hand and fighting back tears. "Please, please, I can't bear to lose you too..."

Edmund approached the other side of the bed, then, and with one trembling hand, he plugged Amelia's nose. The two burly men clamped firmly but gently down on Amelia's wrists, and soon, she opened her mouth to gulp down a breath of air. Lucy took the chance, and, squeezing her eyes shut, she poured a few drops of the liquid into Amelia's mouth.

Amelia coughed and wretched and tried to keep from swallowing, but she couldn't stop the liquid from finally trickling down her throat. Once it did, her body went limp for all but her wracking grief-stricken sobs.

Lucy dropped off the side of the bed and curled up into a ball on the floor, shaking and crying. She was gripping the little glass container so hard that it broke in her hands, cutting up her palm and soaking her night gown with clear liquid and blood. One of the younger healers, who had once been a student of Amelia's, helped Lucy out of the room to get her patched up. She was shaking as hard as the young queen.

True to his orders, Edmund had brought every healer in the castle, but most proved to be useless. Many of them had been students of Amelia, or had worked closely with her at some point or another. All of them knew her personally and that relationship with her made many them useless when faced with the distinct possibility that she might not survive the night.

Edmund had disappeared shortly after he had returned with the healers, but it wasn't long before it was clear where he'd gone; he could be heard throwing up over the balcony outside. Another healer went to fetch him and took him elsewhere, probably in hopes of getting his stomach to calm down. There was simply not the time, the man-power or the emotional strength left in any of them to deal with Edmund falling sick as well.

The bleeding stopped soon after, and Peter lost the ability to take in anything that was going on around him once he heard some vague confirmation that Amelia would survive. He crawled into a corner and held his head in his hands, shaking violently. He couldn't make his eyes focus on anything, and the room spun so relentlessly that he feared he might be sick. He eventually fell asleep, though he wouldn't know it until he woke the next morning, for the swirling colours, the voices full of tension and the unremitting pain continued to plague his dreams for the entire night.

When the morning sun woke him, Peter felt like every bone in his body was made of lead, and that he was miserable but couldn't remember why. Looking up at the bed with the sheets stripped away and Amelia missing, the events of the night before came rushing back to him. Before the sorrow of losing his child could drown him, he was struck with the terrifying realization that he didn't know where Amelia was or if she was alright. Gasping heavily, he crawled across the room and used the door handle to pull himself to his feet. There was a blanket hanging from his shoulders that someone must have given him the night before. When he pulled open the door, he found Lucy and Edmund in the hall; Lucy was crying and Edmund's puffy eyes revealed that he'd been doing the same very recently.

"Where is she?" Peter croaked, leaning on the doorframe for support.

"Sleeping. In her old room," Edmund answered, his voice weak. "Sue's with her."

Peter stumbled down the hallway to the old guest room that Amelia had been staying in before the marriage. He found Amelia, looking pale but otherwise alright, sleeping in the bed, and Susan sitting on the floor in the middle of the room. She was watching Amelia so intently that she didn't even notice Peter's presence until he touched her shoulder.

"Have you had any sleep at all?" His voice was quiet and hoarse.

Susan let out a soft whimper and shook her head. "I couldn't bear it. Oh, Peter, what have I done?"

Peter sat down next to her, at once confused, suspicious and concerned. "What do you mean? You saved Amelia's life."

"I should have known. Saint Nicholas gave us those things for a reason. He _told_ me that I needed to be prepared to use them when the time came, but I wasn't, and now the baby... I've failed. It's my fault."

Peter was shocked into silence. He knew it wasn't Susan's fault; in fact, he would have groveled at her feet for a way to repay her for helping to save his wife. He was simply so surprised by Susan's conviction that the tragedy was somehow her fault that he completely lost his voice. "You... what? No!" Peter gasped, scrambling to put together a coherent sentence. Instead, he just pulled her into a hug.

Susan burst into tears. Stupid, kind, naive Peter. He didn't understand. Saint Nicholas had given her everything she could possibly have needed to prevent this, but she ignored the warning. How many times had Lucy come to her in the past few months, wanting to look through the book of herbs with her, and she'd refused? How many afternoons had she wasted away, doing silly and unimportant things when she could have been learning to save her sister-in-law and the child she'd been carrying?

Peter clenched his jaw, fighting back tears. There would be time for that later, but now, he had to help Susan. "There was no way you could have known."

"There were a million ways I could have known!" Susan shouted, suddenly furious. She tore herself away from Peter and stumbled to her feet. "I should have been keeping a closer eye on her! I should have had nurses checking on her every night! There are always warnings before something like this happens. I missed them! All of them!"

"Warnings?" Peter repeated incredulously. "There were no warnings."

"There were! She was having stomach aches, she was getting cramps. I should have checked!"

Peter stood up and gripped Susan's shoulders. "Those are _normal_ for a pregnant woman. Nothing happened out of the ordinary. There was no way you could have known!"

A quiet groan issued from the tumble of sheets in the bed and instantly both Peter and Susan were entirely distracted. They watched with bated breath as Amelia's eyes fluttered open, dull and tired.

Peter immediately reached out to her, touching her face and pushing strands of hair from her eyes. "Amelia, love..."

She lay still and stared blankly at the ceiling. She didn't look at him, she didn't acknowledge him. She simply stared off into space. She didn't cry, she wasn't angry. She was... nothing. Her face remained blank and emotionless.

Peter looked up at Susan from his seat on the side of the bed, clearly at a loss for what to do. Amelia obviously didn't want to be comforted at the moment, but he couldn't stand to do nothing to help her. "I... umm.. I suppose you should eat something," he suggested slowly, watching Susan to see if this was the right thing to say.

Susan nodded. "Yes, you need to get your strength up, Amelia."

Amelia didn't say a word. She just kept staring, as if they were never there at all.

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CRY! So sad! Please don't hate me! Now you see why this one was such a hard one to write. Things'll get easier now, though, so expect more updates faster from here on out :) And review please!


	30. Miracle

**Chapter 30 -- Miracle**

"What is it?" Peter asked anxiously. "What's wrong with her?"

The matronly nurse straightened up from her position bent over Amelia's bedside and frowned. "I don't know. I can't determine what's wrong until she can tell me how she feels, and right now, she doesn't even seem to realize that we're here."

Peter buried his head in his hands.

Lucy climbed onto the bed, her face still streaked with tears but her expression stubborn, and began pinching Amelia's arm, gently, at first.

"What are you doing, Lucy? Don't hurt her!" Edmund scolded, trying to pull Lucy's hands away.

Lucy scowled and tore her hands from Edmund's grip. "She has to pay attention to me eventually if I keep on it!" She pinched again, this time harder than she intended to, and Amelia rolled away from her, rubbing the spot absently with her other hand.

"Ha!" Lucy cried, pushing herself up onto her knees and looking down into Amelia's face. "I knew it! You know we're here!"

Amelia didn't reply. She just stared off into space as if nothing had happened at all.

"Please?" Lucy's voice grew quiet and tears were threatening to spill over again.

Susan placed her hands on Lucy's shoulders and guided her off the bed. "Come on, Lu. Give her some time and she'll be better before you know it."

Edmund balled his hands into fists; he wanted to hit something, anything to vent his frustration, but that wasn't going to help Amelia. He hated feeling helpless. There had to be something that could be done, even if it was a long shot. "Gather the castle's healers, as many as can be spared, and go out into Narnia in search of answers. There may yet be ancient knowledge in the outer reaches of our land that can help her," he ordered, barely even looking up at the nurse as he spoke.

The nurse nodded quickly. "Of course, Sire, we'll leave tonight."

-----------------------------------

Peter felt like his life had stopped. Time was not passing. He woke up every morning to the same day as yesterday, to do the same things and fret over the same worries. Weeks went like that. There was no doubt that Amelia had recovered in body, but she was still damaged, all the same. Peter could not fathom ruling over Narnia, taking the lives of so many people into his hands when he could not even be sure that his own life wasn't completely and irrevocably over.

Amelia never left the guest room. She did was she absolutely had to in order to survive, and nothing else. She did not speak, there was no anger, no crying, no sadness, no laughter. She was an empty shell. Peter spent every day with her, and never once did she even seem to realize that he was there. Every morning that he walked into her room and she didn't even look at him was one more day he spent sinking into the realization that his Amelia may never come back.

All royal engagements were quickly and quietly cancelled. Even with spring coming, the Pevensies never left the confines of the castle. Slowly, advisors and generals began taking on the responsibilities of the royalty, and each Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy withdrew into the private wing of the castle to mourn their two-fold loss as hope of the healers returning with something valuable faded.

The Spring Equinox Festival marked the first event that required a royal presence. The citizens of Narnia were in high spirits, so Lucy and Edmund, the two royals representing the crown at the festival, played at celebrating just as jovially as anyone else. From the time they arrived at Aslan's How, Edmund never stopped smiling and Lucy spent much of the time before the ceremony telling jokes to wide audiences of young Narnians.

"Queen Lucy? Where are King Peter, Queen Susan and Queen Amelia?" a young squirrel asked, just before the start of the ceremony.

Lucy's smile took on a hard edge. "Queen Amelia's been sick, so they stayed at Cair Paravel."

"Oh," sighed the young squirrel, obviously disappointed. "Well, I hope Queen Amelia's better soon!"

Lucy nodded quickly, trying desperately to rebuild the mask of happiness and relaxation that was threatening to crack. Edmund was suddenly behind her and she felt his reassuring hand on her back. In that moment, she felt the sob rising in her throat begin to back down, and she relaxed again. "Thank you, Squirrel. I'll make sure to tell her."

Some of the older animals, who knew more of the specifics of Amelia's 'illness', were watching Lucy with some mixture of sorrow and pity.

Lucy's demeanor never fully recovered, but she still led a wonderful spring equinox ceremony. A large brazier had been set up at the foot of the How, and Lucy rode up to it on her mare with a torch in one hand, prepared to light it as the sun set. As the bright orb disappeared over the horizon, Lucy stood up in her stirrups and lifted the torch into the air. "Even in the darkest of nights, Aslan's light shall never diminish!" she cried, to the cheers and hoots and howls of the hundreds of creatures gathered around her.

Edmund, who was standing on the ground next to Lucy, had to take the torch because Lucy couldn't reach the low brazier from her saddle. With a quick grin and a bow to the audience, he dropped the torch into the oil-soaked center. It burst into flames, higher than Edmund had expected. He jumped back in surprise. So did Lucy's mare, throwing her off the saddle in the process.

Lucy's ear-piercing scream of pain turned the ceremony quickly into an emergency. Several of the centaur guards immediately began to work to keep the crowd back while those creatures with any healing knowledge went to work to find out what was wrong with Lucy. It wasn't particularly hard to see; her thigh-bone had broken violently in the fall, and the jagged edge of the break had pierced the skin.

One faun, the most experienced of the healers at the ceremony, looked grim. "This is beyond my skill. I can set the bone, but the wound is too deep and too close to her femoral artery. I will not touch it."

Edmund pleaded with him, his face ashen. "Please, you're the only one who can help! At least try!"

The faun scowled and shook his head. He set the bone quickly and efficiently, drawing only one cry of pain from Lucy in the process. He was obviously very talented.

"Please," Edmund repeated, ignoring the blood on the faun's hands and taking them anyway. Another of the creatures began splinting the bone.

"I'm sorry, Sire, I will not. If I make a single mistake, she may bleed to death before you could ever reach Cair Paravel. I will not take that risk. Her Majesty would be much better off if you were to take her directly back to the castle now and get her proper care there."

Edmund finally relented and ordered one of the centaurs to carry Lucy with him back to Cair Paravel. The other guards would follow with Lucy's horse after the crowd was sent home.

The ride back to Cair Paravel was tense and slow; the centaur could not move very fast while carrying the injured Lucy. Luckily, Verila had been hunting near the castle and saw them coming. She wheeled above them and glided down to land on the back of Edmund's saddle.

"What's the matter, your Majesty? Is Queen Lucy alright?"

A moan from Lucy told her that no, she was not.

"Go back to Cair Paravel and gather up any healers left in the castle. Lucy is injured. A broken bone."

Instantly, Verila was back in the air and pumping her wings to reach Cair Paravel as quickly as possible.

When Edmund arrived at the gates of the castle, the healers were there waiting for him. There were disappointingly few, and most of them were very inexperienced.

Edmund dismounted and motioned for the healers to follow him inside. The centaur had already gone in with Lucy.

"Lucy was thrown from her horse. She broke her thigh and the bone pierced the skin. The break has been set, but the faun who did it didn't have the skill to fix the wound," he explained, leading the healers up to Lucy's bedroom, where they found her lying on the bed, clutching the sheets with white knuckles.

The healers went immediately to work, but it was quickly apparent that they did not have the skill to fix the wound, either, and like the faun, they were too afraid of hitting the femoral artery to do anything particularly helpful.

Tumnus appeared at the door shortly thereafter. "What happened?"

"She fell off her horse," Edmund answered, pinching the bridge of his nose. There had to be some way to call the healers back off their search. But, even if he could call them back, would they arrive on time?

Tumnus knew enough about healing that when he looked at the injury, he knew it was not good news. He knew the risks involved in having someone less than the most experienced healer try to clean and stitch the wound. He also knew that there was no one left in the castle capable of doing it, and that if they didn't find someone soon, Lucy would be placed at real risk.

"Wait!" Edmund cried. "Lucy's vial, where is it?!"

Together, he and Tumnus turned Lucy's room upside down, enlisting the help of every one of the healers in their search. They couldn't find it anywhere.

"Lucy?" Tumnus asked, leaning over Lucy's bed to he could look her in the eyes. "Where is your vial? We can help you, but you have to tell us where it is!"

Lucy shook her head, gritting her teeth. "Broken bone. Not life-threatening."

"Lucy, please!"

"No!" She turned away from him, wrenching her break in the process, and with a great cry, abruptly passed out.

Edmund and Tumnus stayed up most of the night, brainstorming ways of finding someone who could help Lucy. They sent out messenger birds to go looking for the healers, but they had no idea where to look.

The young healers did the best they could, opting to bind the wound to stop the bleeding. It would hopefully be enough to keep Lucy healthy while her family and friends searched desperately for a more experienced healer.

It was just before dawn when Edmund decided to wake Peter and Susan.

He knocked on Peter's door and was surprised to hear a reply.

"Come in."

He opened the door and peered into the dark bedroom, only to find that there were several candles lit and Peter was fully dressed, sitting on the end of his bed. He was turning his wedding ring over and over between his fingers.

"Why aren't you asleep?" Edmund asked, closing the door behind him.

Peter shrugged. "Why aren't you?"

"I've been awake with Lucy. She fell off her horse," Edmund said. The more often he explained it, the more he felt like he should have prevented it.

Peter looked up at him, surprised. "Is she alright?"

Edmund shook his head. "She broke her femur. The bone's been set, but it broke the skin and there are no healers left in Cair Paravel skilled enough to handle such an injury."

"None?!" Peter repeated incredulously. He was on his feet and following Edmund to Lucy's room.

"We sent them away to find answers for Amelia. _I_ sent them away."

Peter picked up on the tone immediately. "It's not you're fault, Ed. Go wake Susan. We need to find a way to help Lucy." He looked at Tumnus, who was sitting at Lucy's bedside. "How is she?"

"Sleeping. She doesn't seem to be in as much pain as before."

Peter sighed and sat down next to the faun. "If only Amelia could..." he began, but his voice died before he could finish the sentence.

"I know. I've been thinking the same thing myself all night."

Peter suddenly sat up very straight, gasping loudly. "The Angels! We could send a messenger down to the Tribes camp to get a few of the Angels. They would certainly have the skill for this!"

Tumnus looked skeptical. "Would they arrive on time?"

"Do you have any better ideas?"

---------------------------------------

A week went by, and Tumnus never left Lucy's bedside. None of the messenger birds, either those sent to find the castle healers or those sent out to the Angels, had returned with any news. Lucy's state was quickly deteriorating. The wound was infected.

The healers in the castle could do nothing but try to keep Lucy's body as strong as possible, as that was her best hope in fighting off the infection. Fever ripped through her and she was getting steadily weaker with every day that passed.

Tumnus was sitting next to Lucy on her bed, talking quietly with her to keep her spirits up.

"Goodness," Lucy said, yawning, "how's Amelia?" She often asked, sometimes as often as every ten minutes or so. Tumnus was beginning to wonder if the fever was affecting her state of mind. After all, she was still so adamant that she was in no danger that she continued to refuse to tell anyone where her vial was.

"Same as she's been, but no worse, at least," Tumnus answered.

"Well, tell her I say hello," Lucy said, smiling sleepily. "And goodbye."

Tumnus tensed. "Goodbye? Why would you say goodbye, Lucy?"

There was no answer.

"Lucy?" Tumnus looked down at her, eyes wide with fear. Lucy's eyes were closed and her breathing was dangerously shallow, until it seemed to stop all together.

"Lucy! Lucy, wake up! Lucy!" Tumnus was shouting, frantic. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her gently. "Lucy!"

The healers piled into the room and got immediately to work trying to determine what was wrong. One of Amelia's battlefield healers had the presence of mind to give Lucy a hard thump on the stomach. Lucy's whole body convulsed, and then she began gulping down air, breathing raggedly, but still breathing. There was no way to ensure that she would continue.

Tumnus felt his knees go weak and he let himself collapse to the floor. Losing Lucy was not an option. He had to do something.

Amelia was their only hope.

For the first time in a week, he let himself out of Lucy's room and walked down the hall, into Amelia's room. It was the middle of the afternoon, so despite the fact that she was in bed with her eyes closed, Tumnus knew she was awake.

He knelt at the side of her bed and held one of her hands in both of his. "Please," he breathed. "Lucy is going to die, and there is nothing any of us can do. You're the only one who can help her. I like to hope that you can hear me, and if you're going to listen to anyone ever again, please let it be me, right now. You have to help her. We all love her so much. And I... I can't lose her. Please." He touched his forehead to the side of the bed and waited for any kind of response. As the seconds ticked by and Amelia didn't move, he felt his heart sinking like a stone into the pit of his stomach. It took all the strength he had to get to his feet and start towards the door. He froze when he heard the shuffling of blankets behind him.

Amelia clambered out of the bed and stood very still, her balance wavering. Keeping her eyes on the floor, she took a few slow steps and then, more confident in her balance, walked out the door, straight past Tumnus. Her face was still blank as ever. She shuffled down the hallway and into Lucy's room. The healers were still with Lucy, and stared slack-jawed at Amelia when she entered the room.

She never spoke. She just set to work with silent determination. She made quick work of a herbal mixture to clear out the wound itself, stitched it closed, and made a sweet smelling mixture which she put in boiling water and left on the bedside table in a mug. Then, with never so much as a word, she folded herself cross-legged on the floor and seemed to freeze in place. Her eyes were on Lucy's injured leg, but it looked very much like she was staring past it into the empty space on the other side of the room.

Lucy had fallen asleep and, in her fever, didn't wake at all while Amelia worked.

Everyone stayed completely silent, waiting with baited breath from Amelia to do something else; they all expected her to look at one of them, or even speak. But she never did anything like that. She just stayed very still, looking exactly the way she had minutes before.

Slowly, the healers began filing out of the room. With Amelia there, they would no longer be of much help. Never did Amelia move.

Peter came crashing into the room within the hour. "Amelia's missing, I..." His voice died when he saw his wife sitting on the floor. He looked to Tumnus, waiting for an explanation.

"I told her about Lucy's condition. I didn't think she could hear me, but when I went to leave her room, she followed me back here. She cleaned and stitched the wound," Tumnus murmured. His voice was quiet, but in the absolute silence of the room, it sounded like he was shouting. He smiled weakly. "It might just be the miracle Lucy needed."

Lucy mumbled something in her sleep and yawned, her eyes fluttering open. "Oh, look, someone's brought me some tea..." she said sleepily, pulling herself up into a sitting position and taking the mug into her hands. She was about to take a sip when she saw Amelia sitting on the floor. She gaped for a moment and then, looking up at Peter, asked, "Is she sleeping?"

Peter hadn't noticed it until Lucy had mentioned it, but Amelia's eyes were closed, and her face was full of profound relief. As if in answer to Lucy's question, she opened her eyes and looked at her, truly seeing her.

Lucy gave a start of surprise and nearly spilled her tea.

Amelia got to her feet and shuffled out of the room. She glued her eyes to the floor; now she was trying to avoid looking at people, instead of simply not seeing them.

Peter looked at Tumnus in shock, but the faun seemed to understand less of what was going on than he did, so he followed Amelia back to the guest room. He found her sitting upright in bed, the blankets pulled up over her legs. She was staring at her hands.

Peter shut the door behind him with a click. Amelia heard the sound and looked up at him. Her face was still completely expressionless, but she looked at him. She could see him. He felt like dancing, like leaping across the room and showering Amelia with kisses, like shouting out his relief and thanks across all of Narnia. Instead, he just stood very still and stared back, his lips parted slightly and his voice caught in his throat.

Amelia opened her mouth like she was going to speak but instead, worry flitted across her face momentarily, and she shut her mouth again, her expression returning to complete blankness.

-----------------------------

For the most part, Amelia didn't change very much. She stayed in the guest room, still doing nothing other than what she had to in order to survive, with the notable exception of checking in on Lucy at seemingly arbitrary intervals. She stayed silent, though one might be surprised how easy it was for her to communicate without words, or even very much expression, though her communication was completely restricted to instructing Lucy on how to get better.

The difference was in everyone else in the castle. Lucy healed remarkably quickly after Amelia's intervention. There was a tangible hope that made laughter come more easily than it used to. Even though the day-to-day decisions were still being made by advisors, Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy began attending weekly meetings with their advisors so they could start becoming involved in the politics of their country once again. And Peter couldn't help but hope that maybe someday, his wife would come back to him.

One night, a week later, Peter had fallen asleep in a chair next to Amelia's bed.

Amelia woke in the middle of the night and found him there. The door out to the balcony was open, and the chill had not entirely yet left the air. He had his arms wrapped around himself in his sleep.

Amelia sat up and watched him sleep for a while. It had been a long time since she'd had a chance to look at him without his face marred with worry for her. He was holding the locket given to him for Christmas in one of his hands. They still hadn't managed to open it. She found a blanket in the closet and draped it over him, unwilling to wake him to send him properly to bed. She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead, surprising herself, and brushed some of the hair from his eyes. She couldn't take her eyes off him when she sat back down on the bed, and soon found her vision completely blurred by tears. Overwhelmed by a torrent of emotion that she couldn't even hope to untangle and trying desperately to keep quiet so she wouldn't wake him, she leaned over and touched the back of his hand before wrapping herself up in her blankets and, for the first night in many months, cried herself to sleep.

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This chapter brought to you by the song Rain by Patty Griffin. I think I might have to stop promising that I'll be updating faster because, despite having the best of intentions every time I say it, things just seem to keep getting in the way. Bah. But I want you all to know that I am trying very hard to get these updates out at a reasonable pace, and hopefully with greater inspiration will come greater update speeds. On the plus side, this update is pretty big and also more positive than the recent ones! Happy! So yes, I love all my readers and I'll try to update as quick as I can and reviewers are my favorites!


	31. Forgiveness

**Chapter 31 -- Forgiveness**

When Peter woke the next morning with a stiff neck and a sore back, he hobbled off to his own room in the hopes that a nice hot bath would relax his aching muscles. He didn't know it, but Amelia had been awake when he left, though very still and quiet. When the door shut behind him, she was overcome with emotion again, though she had no tears left at the moment. For so long, she had been hiding from her own pain, locking herself away inside to hide from the sorrow. Now, she couldn't hide any longer, not when her own cowardice had nearly killed Lucy, but she didn't have a hope of unraveling the raging emotions that were always threatening to overflow.

Carefully, she shut her eyes and tried to let herself feel. Tears sprang instantly to her eyes and she let out a ragged gasp. The pain of it was unbearable. She couldn't afford to hide anymore, but she couldn't let herself get lost in her grief. She had to tread carefully.

She spent most of the morning touching on the reservoir of anguish hiding just under her blank surface. Eventually, she would have to get to the source of it, but the journey terrified her. It wasn't long before she'd cried herself out again and slept through the afternoon.

Peter returned only for a short time; when he discovered her sleeping, he decided to leave her be instead of running the risk of waking her. He spent the evening playing chess with Edmund. He lost, badly, because not only was Edmund simply better at chess, but Peter's mind was still with Amelia.

Night fell and soon everyone retired to their rooms. Peter couldn't sleep; he often stayed awake through the night when he was relegated to his own room instead of sleeping in the chair with Amelia.

Amelia woke just after midnight, having slept through the afternoon and much of the evening. She lay in the darkness, staring at the ceiling and fighting with her fear of letting herself feel. She heard the smash instead of seeing the fall. The locket had fallen off the bedside table. Sighing, she sat up and felt around the smooth surface of the table for matches, lighting the candle once she found them. Sitting up, she searched the floor and found, to her surprise, that the locket was sitting face up, opened on the floor. The fall must have finally unstuck it. She lifted it carefully, staring at the images inside. There were two tiny paintings, created with such precision and perfection that she could not imagine any human hand capable of such works. Even more strangely, the one on the left captured a moment in time perfectly, one that she hadn't thought about in a long time, one that no one but she and Peter should have known about. She remembered it clearly; Peter had been on his way to recovering from his stomach wound when it happened. He'd gone to the kitchen in the middle of the night to get a snack, but discovered that he couldn't get back up the stairs on his own as he made his way back to bed. Amelia had found him there a little while later. Peter had claimed that he hadn't been there long, but she never knew whether he was telling the truth or not. The image was of her helping him up the last step. Each was looking at the other with expressions of such love that Amelia found herself wondering how they had managed to wait for so long after that night to admit their feelings for each other.

Her eyes fell on the twin image in the other frame and her jaw nearly dropped to the floor. It was almost an exact mirror image of the left painting, only in this one, Peter was supporting Amelia's weight, instead of the other way around. Suddenly, everything clicked.

_He loves you more than the world, and he will be your strength, if you let him. You must let him. You can't do this on your own._

St. Nicholas had known what was going to happen. He'd tried to warn her not to push Peter away, to show her that she needed Peter in order to heal. And that he needed her, too. She felt awash in guilt, shame, and an overwhelming need to seek forgiveness and comfort. The tears were already welling up in her eyes when she pulled her bedroom door closed behind her and padded silently down the hall towards Peter's room. She blew out her candle when she reached his door and slipped inside. She froze, surprised, when she saw Peter awake, sitting on the end of his bed.

Peter lifted his head, his eyes going wide as saucers when he saw Amelia standing in his doorway. He wanted nothing more than to go to her, but he held himself back, afraid of scaring her away again. He'd been rolling his wedding ring between his fingers, thinking about their wedding day; he wanted so badly to go back to then and live the past months over again. Maybe if he got another chance, he could make things happen differently. He slipped it quickly back on, watching her eyes follow the ring as he did so.

Amelia's heart sunk immediately. It hadn't occurred to her that she might be unable to repair the damage she'd done, but the thought struck her suddenly in full force when she saw the ring between his thumb and forefinger. She had never seen him take it off before. She began to panic. Taking two quick steps towards him, crossing about half the distance between them, she drew in a shaky breath and scrubbed at her teary eyes. "I'm sorry," she said weakly, having no idea what else to say. She was terrified and in so much pain that she couldn't even think straight, much less come up with a way to convince Peter not to leave her.

Peter choked on his reply. "Sorry?" he asked finally. He wasn't entirely sure if he was asking her why she was sorry, or simply asking her to repeat herself so that he could hear the sound of her voice again. There was a moment of silence and Peter got to his feet, the shock wearing off for the moment. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he added, tentatively crossing the remaining space between them. He wanted to touch her, but she was still so vulnerable and he was desperate to avoid scaring her away. Slowly, with his heart beating out of his chest, he reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently once he was sure she wouldn't pull away.

Amelia looked up at him, trembling slightly as she tried to form her words. "I... But I hurt you," she whispered, holding back sobs. She moved closer to him and buried her face into his shoulder, crying softly.

Peter's arms went instantly around her. The relief of contact was extraordinary; he swore to himself he'd never take even the smallest touch for granted again. He had to concentrate on keeping himself from hugging her too hard. He was terribly afraid that she would try to flee at any moment. Slowly and cautiously, he began to move backwards towards the bed, where he sat down and pulled her into his lap, cradling her carefully as the sobs subsided.

"I'm so sorry," Amelia murmured, her voice still thick. "I was being so selfish, caught up in... and I...you... I hurt you" She had to stop talking as she broke down into tears again.

Peter sighed to himself, wiping away the tear-tracks on her cheeks with his thumb. "I'm going to be completely honest with you," he said, willing himself to continue. "I lost my child, and then I felt like I was losing my wife, too. It's been torture, never knowing if or when you could love me again. But, I couldn't bring myself to blame you for acting the way you were." He paused when Amelia opened her mouth to answer, and put a gentle finger to her lips. "Because what I was feeling... it was nothing compared to what you must feel." He tightened his arms around her, his heart constricting in his chest as he thought about it. "I can't even imagine." He smoothed the hair out of her face and kissed her forehead. "Please let me help you. I know there isn't much I can do, but if there's anything in the world that you want..."

Amelia shook her head slowly, looking up to meet his eyes. "Just stay with me," she answered in a raw voice, tears spilling out of her eyes again.

It was like a dam had broken inside of Peter. He'd spent so long worrying over Amelia that he hadn't had the chance to mourn his child, and suddenly the sensation of loss knocked the breath from his lungs. He gasped, gulping down air and hissing as the pain of it settled itself into the pit of his stomach. His eyes burned with tears, so he squeezed them shut.

They cried until they had no tears left.

The eastern sky was glowing faintly when Peter, dizzy with physical and emotional exhaustion, crawled into bed with a sleeping Amelia next to him. He made the whole process much more complicated than it had to be, but he was loathe to let her go for even a moment.

It had been weeks since Peter had last slept for more than two or three hours at a time. For the first time in so long, he slept through the night.

For weeks, Amelia's nights had been full of nightmares, each forcing her to go deeper into hiding from her pain. For the first night in so long, she slept a peaceful and dreamless sleep.

For the first time in far too long, they slept soundly in each other's arms

------------------------------

Amelia woke very slowly the next morning; at first, the sound she heard were incomprehensible, but she slowly came to realize that there were voices. She also came to the sudden realization that she was very cold.

"Anything I have scheduled for today can be postponed," she heard Peter saying.

"But Sire, you must attend to the..."

"I don't care what it is. I will not be disturbed today, is that understood?"

"Yes, your Majesty. I'll see to it right away."

The door closed softly, and Amelia felt the bed shifting as Peter lay back down with her again, pulling the blankets back up over her and gathering her carefully into his arms. She gave an involuntary shiver as the cold was replaced with Peter's body heat, and she felt his arms tighten around her.

"Morning," she mumbled, burying her face in his shoulder. She felt, rather than heard, him chuckle.

"It's the middle of the afternoon, love." Peter was drunk with touch, and though the pain that had settled into his stomach the night before continued to nag at him, Amelia clouded out all else.

Amelia was about to reply, but found a sudden wave of emotion choking her and tears sprang to her eyes. She couldn't deny the feelings that Peter aroused in her, but she could not feel those things without experiencing the whole of her emotions. She was plunged into the deep, dark sadness inside her. It was different than it had been before, though. _He will be your strength, if you let him_. Where she had felt like she was drowning before, she had something to hold on to now. It was painful, yes, but she was no longer afraid of losing herself in her grief.

Peter didn't speak. He didn't ask why she was crying, because he already understood. This was not something that could be healed with a few reassuring words. This was something that could only be healed with tears and time. The best thing for Amelia now was simply a warm, safe place to cry, and he could give her that.

It didn't take long for Amelia's tears to dry, but it was hours before either of them spoke.

"Why did this happen to us? What have we done to deserve this?" Amelia asked, her voice quiet and raw.

Peter shook his head. "I don't know. A year ago, I would have said that everything happens for a reason, but I can't imagine a reason for Aslan to deny us our child."

Amelia's hand, which had been resting on Peter's chest, clenched involuntarily at the word 'child' and her fingernails dig into his skin for a moment. She drew blood.

Peter yelped, more surprised than anything else, and Amelia pulled her hand away as quickly as she could, but the damage had been done. She sat up, staring down at the small half-moon cuts on Peter's chest.

"I'm sorry!" she cried, scrambling out of the bed and grabbing a towel from next to the bath tub. She folded it up and pressed it against the cuts.

Peter smiled. "It's alright, barely even a scratch," he answered, winding his arm around her as soon as she was within reach again. He was still very much against the idea of letting her go, even for a moment.

Amelia put the towel down; just as Peter had said, she had barely even broken the skin. The bleeding had already stopped entirely. She sighed with remarkable relief and let Peter pull her into his arms and lie down again. She closed her eyes and replayed the previous night in her head.

_"It's been torture, never knowing if or when you could love me again."_

Amelia sat up suddenly, gasping. How could she have been so blind?

Peter sat up next to her, worried. "What's the matter?"

She took his face into her hands, looking him straight in the eyes. The movement started him, she could tell. "I love you. Always. You know that, right?"

A slow smile spread across Peter's face and he grabbed her wrists, pulling her against him. "I know. I love you too."

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Rah rah! Took me forever to come up with a good ending for this chapter, but I really like it :) Happy happy! So? What do you think? Reviews are happy!


	32. Smile

**Chapter 32 -- Smile**

Susan, Lucy, Edmund and Tumnus all knew that Amelia had started spending her nights (and her days) with Peter again. The door was always closed and neither of them ever ventured out of their room so, despite the fact that hopes were high that Amelia was on the mend, no one actually knew what was going on.

A week into Amelia's return to Peter's room, Lucy was on the verge of spying on them, she was so desperate to find out whether Amelia was okay. The only reason she hadn't already started listening in that their door already was because she couldn't get around without crutches, and she simply knew that they would be able to hear her hobbling around in the hallway.

Susan and Lucy were up early that morning, and were spending their time before breakfast in the small morning room in the private wing of the castle; since it was so hard for Lucy to get down the stairs to the Great Hall for breakfast, the family had started taking their meals in that room, mostly for its view and the warm morning sun that it received through its east-facing window.

"Morning, m'ladies," Tumnus greeted as he walked into the room. He'd often joined the royals for meals before, but always on invitation. Recently, he had started taking his all his meals with them, claiming that he worried for Lucy and wanted to keep an eye on her while Amelia wasn't around to care for her. Susan, while she knew that Tumnus truly did worry for Lucy, saw the way he looked at her and knew that it was much more than simple worry.

"Good morning, Tumnus!" Lucy greeted, with slightly more vigor than she generally used towards other people. Susan decided that both of them deserved to be happy, and hoped that Peter and Edmund wouldn't develop a sudden intense protectiveness of their younger sister. It wouldn't take much to scare poor Tumnus away.

Susan's musings were interrupted by the arrival of Edmund, announced by his stomach growling remarkably loudly.

"Breakfast won't be ready for at least another half hour yet, Ed," Susan said, not even bothering to look up from the book she had been pretending to read (while she was really watching Lucy and Tumnus).

Edmund didn't even get a chance to answer before the door to the breakfast room opened yet again. Everyone looked up in surprise; they weren't expecting anyone else to join them, at least until the servants arrived with the meal.

To the great shock of each of them, Peter was standing in the doorway, looking extremely pleased. "Morning," he greeted, trying to sound nonchalant and failing miserably.

Lucy lurched to her feet and hobbled over to her brother in great excitement. "Hello Peter! Does this mean Amelia's feeling better?"

Peter's grin widened. "Ask her yourself." He stepped out of the doorway to reveal Amelia standing in the doorway, looking embarrassed by the sudden burst of surprise and activity in the room when they saw her.

Lucy reached her first and pulled her into a tight hug, giggling. "How are you feeling?"

Amelia shrugged out of Lucy grip and helped her back to her seat. "I could ask the same of you; is you leg doing alright?"

The entire room dropped into silence again as each of the others had to get over the shock of hearing her voice. Peter cringed inwardly, realizing that he probably should have spoken to his siblings first before they actually saw Amelia. He would have, but he hadn't had the chance; he had been shocked himself when just a few minutes ago Amelia announced that she wanted to go to breakfast and walked out the door of Peter's room for the first time in days.

Susan was the first to return to reality after the shock. Amelia was blushing furiously and gripping Peter's sleeve so tightly that Susan was sure she wanted nothing more than to just hide behind him. The stares were obviously making her very uncomfortable, so Susan got to her feet, strode across the room and rang the bell to call a servant, smiling at Amelia as if nothing unusual was going on at all.

"So, what would you like for breakfast?" she asked briskly, returning to her seat and picking her book back up. She held it, but didn't start reading. Instead, she raised one eyebrow at her sister-in-law when she didn't get an answer. "You'll have to order in a moment, so you'd best make up your mind."

"Why can't I just have the same thing as the rest of you?" Amelia asked meekly. Everyone else was still staring at her without relent.

Susan shrugged. "The cooks must be nearly finished with our meals by now so they'll have to do yours separately anyways. You might as well get something special, in that case. You could get the same as us, if you'd like, I suppose."

Amelia now seemed sufficiently distracted from the staring, and the others were starting to come back to themselves.

Suddenly, Amelia let out a gasp. "Do you think I could have banana pancakes?" she asked.

Everyone was staring at her again, but this time it was a look of utter confusion on their faces (Peter and Susan included).

"You'd like a what kind of pancake?" Peter asked finally.

"Banana!" Amelia repeated. When she still got nothing but blank looks from her companions, understanding finally dawned on her. "Do none of you know what a banana is?"

"Banana...?" Lucy repeated slowly, unsure of whether or not she was saying it correctly.

"But you've been to Calormen!" Amelia exclaimed, surprised. "How can you go and not... oh... of course. Bananas are a poor-man's delicacy there. It would be shameful for the Tarkaan to serve such things to his royal guests. Too bad. They're delicious."

"When were you in Calormen?" Edmund asked, perplexed.

"Just before you came here, Dierdre organized a full-force attack on the White Witch's fortress. For a one-night raid, it was very successful, and she was so furious over the damage we did that she chased us clear out of Narnia. We were afraid she'd even try to follow us into Archenland, so we made the trek across the desert and into Calormen to hide from her. We made a living there for about a year doing odd-jobs for some of the less fortunate towns along the border in exchange for a meal and some shelter for the night, until it was safe to come back to Narnia. That's where we were when you arrived and defeated her."

Lucy let out a yelp of triumph and nearly fell over when she tried to jump to her feet and discovered that her weak leg couldn't support the sudden weight. She grabbed Tumnus' outstretched hand and just barely regained her balance enough to land back in her seat instead of on the floor. "There's a Calormene who comes to Beaversdam to sell exotic fruits and vegetables! We can go visit the next time he's there!"

In the buzz of excitement that followed, Amelia seemed to be the only one who noticed that Lucy and Tumnus had yet to let go of each other's hands. She watched them carefully, wondering when this subtle change in their relationship had occurred. It looked like they weren't even aware of it yet.

As the trip was planned, Lucy finally pulled her hand out Tumnus' to emphasize a point, but even when others were speaking, the faun's eyes were fixed on the young queen.

Amelia was distracted for a moment by the arrival of the servant, and she decided on strawberry pancakes. When she was finished thanking the young apprentice chef and sent him back to the kitchens, she turned her attention to Lucy and Tumnus again, only to find that they'd each been distracted by Susan and Edmund, respectively. She found herself feeling sorely disappointed.

Lucy had the unusual preference of spreading her own jam on her toast. For the rest of the present company, the cooks in the kitchen knew their favourite kind of jam and spreading it was the last thing they did before sending the plates out with the servants. They had quickly learned, however, that Lucy was extremely picky about spreading her jam just so; so picky, in fact, that no one else could do it exactly right and she much preferred just to do it herself. So, every morning, the cook sent up a jar of raspberry jam with Lucy's buttered toast so she could do so.

This particular morning, breakfast arrived and Lucy was delighted to find that the jar was a new one; as of yet unopened. She was adamant that the first serving from a new jar of jam is always the sweetest; the others let her say so but didn't quite believe her, since they themselves couldn't taste any difference.

Amelia was quiet, content to eat her own breakfast slowly and simply listen to the conversations going on around her. Peter and Edmund were deep in conversation about rumours of the giants' rumbling in the North - it seems they would never be satisfied. Susan was also following this conversation closely; if anything was to happen, it would mean they would have to make the long journey North yet again to fight off another rebellion. Susan was becoming a masterful politician so, with a bit of luck, she might be able to stave off another battle using words.

Lucy and Tumnus, on the other hand, were discussing the finer points of how to open a stuck lid on a jar.

"Perhaps we should just send it back to the kitchen and have them dip the lid in hot water. That might help to loosen it up," Lucy suggested.

"That would probably work, but I think there might be a way to fix it right here, right now. It's a bit of a trick that I learned some years ago now. Would you like me to show you?" Tumnus asked, holding his hands out.

Lucy nodded and held the jar out to him, but he simply smiled and, instead of taking the jar from her, he drew her close, wrapped one arm around her waist and placed his hands over hers, guiding them into place around the jar's lid.

"Now, squeeze with your thumb and forefinger here, give it a little wiggle, just like this," he tugged gently on her hands, to show her the proper motion, "and give it a sharp twist!" With a loud pop, the jar came open and Lucy let out a gasp of delight. Tumnus grinned, but was noticeably slow removing his arms from around her. His eyes caught Amelia's, staring at them, and he grinned sheepishly.

Amelia cast her eyes down at her own plate, embarrassed that she'd been caught watching the adorable exchange. She tried to tell herself that she was reading far too much into the relationship of two people who had been friends for as long as Lucy and Tumnus, but she couldn't keep the silly grin off her face. She bit her lip, toying with a strawberry using the end of her fork, and tried very hard to keep her obvious amusement from being noticed. It was a long moment before she realized that all conversation at the table had stopped. When she looked up, she saw that everyone was staring at her, all with varying degrees of pleasure evident on their faces.

It was Peter's face that shone most obviously, and his expression seemed to be inspiring the grins of everyone else.

Amelia felt herself blushing, but still her silly grin grew. "What? Why is everyone looking at me like that?"

In a single surprisingly fluid motion, Peter got to his feet, scooped Amelia clear out of her chair, and kissed her fiercely, much to the amusement of their company.

Amelia let out a strangled cry of surprise and pulled away. "What in the Lion's name was _that_ for?" she asked, sounding stern despite her breathless grin.

Peter shrugged and placed her feet back on the floor, though he kept his arms firmly around her. "Can't a man kiss his wife?"

Amelia cocked her eyebrow. "Oh, don't even try that line on me. What was it?"

Peter smiled and brushed his lips against hers once more, earning a blush and an up-turn to the corners of her lips. "You smiled, love."

Amelia blinked at him, completely confused, until she realized that a smile had not graced her mouth in months. Since _that_ night. Her face reddened, but this time with shame. How could she? Her child was dead, and she was happy_._ It would be a monstrous thing, to forget the scars so quickly. A child should be the heart and soul of his mother, and if she could smile again after losing him, what kind of mother would she have been if he'd lived? She was unfit. An unfit mother, and therefore an unfit wife. An unfit Queen.

Peter watched with growing confusion the transformation in Amelia's expression from one of playfulness that he hadn't seen in so long and had missed so dearly, to one of abject horror. But before he even had a chance to ask her what was wrong, she tore herself from his arms, mumbled some kind of apology and fled from the room.

He stood in shock for nearly ten seconds before Susan, whose face grew more impatient every moment, finally asked, "Peter, what's the matter with you? Go after her, you dolt!"

Peter was frozen for a moment longer before he nodded quickly to Susan and rushed out of the room after Amelia. He searched everywhere: their room, her guest room, the kitchen, the courtyard... everywhere that he'd known her to spend time. Soon, the entire castle was being turned upside down in what was quickly becoming a desperate search for a missing Queen.

By the time evening fell, Peter had been taken to the Great Hall and was sitting with Lucy, his head in his hands. He'd stopped being useful hours ago, as worry slowly overtook any other thought.

Lucy, while worried for Amelia, was worried more for her brother. Certainly Amelia needed to heal, but she had no doubt that she would. Peter, on the other hand, was slowly breaking. He would not be able to take much more anxiety before it permanently changed him.

When Edmund walked into the room, his footsteps echoed across the floor. Peter's head immediately shot up in response. Edmund cringed at the hope in his eyes.

"We haven't found her, Peter. I'm sorry," he said, sitting on the floor behind his throne. He felt too exposed sitting on it at times like these, so he hid behind it.

Peter's head dropped back into his hands. "I've no idea what happened. I'm such an idiot. Why did I just let her go?"

"It's not your fault, Peter," Lucy cooed, knowing it wouldn't help. It hadn't helped the last twenty times they'd had this conversation, either.

"Of course it's my fault! I should have followed her! I've no idea where she is, or if she's safe, or... or anything!" Peter's voice rose quickly to a shout. As he spoke, he got to his feet and began to pace. "I can't stand this!"

"None of us can. We're all worried, but she'll be alright," Lucy answered. She was quite sure that Amelia was in no immediate danger, but rather that she simply did not want to be found, and told Peter so.

"I know. I know! But I can't help thinking of all the things that could have gone wrong. It's sadistic, but I can't stop thinking, what if something has happened? Something I should be able to save her from, if only I could find her? If only I'd followed her."

"Maybe you should get some sleep," Edmund suggested, peering out at his brother from his sitting place. "You'll drive yourself crazy thinking things like that, and it certainly won't help us find her."

"I'll never be able to fall asleep," Peter answered wearily.

Lucy stood up and took his hand, guiding him slowly out of the hall. "Come on, I'll get you something to knock you out. You won't do anyone an ounce of good worrying like this."

Peter simply gave up and let Lucy lead him up the stairs and to his room. Outside the door of his room, he stopped and pulled his hand from Lucy's. "Don't worry about getting me some sleeping medicine, Lu. I'll be alright on my own."

Lucy smiled, pleased to hear that Peter was feeling well enough to sleep. "Alright, then. Call if you need anything."

Peter nodded and watching his younger sister disappear down the hall. He wasn't going to sleep. He'd been right when he said he'd never be able to sleep in his state, but the thought of a fitful drug-induced sleep was too exhausting to bear. This would be a night spent like all the others, excluding the most recent week: pacing and worrying into the wee hours of the morning, until sheer fatigue finally drew him into a few hours of sleep before sunrise. Sighing heavily, he pushed open the door to his room, preparing himself for the long, troubled night ahead.

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:( Poor Peter. Again, apologies for the ridiculous span of time between updates. School is much more intense than I'd imagined, plus I'm working part time. Exams are starting soon, so I'm probably not going to be updating again for about 2 weeks, but I promise to try my best to make sure that it's no longer than that. Thanks to all my faithful readers who are sticking with me even though my updates take forever :P

Love love love all my readers and especially reviewers :)


	33. The Lion's Oath

**Chapter 33 -- The Lion's Oath**

Amelia fled through the castle, letting her feet take her anywhere so long as it was a place where she could be alone. Her first instincts took her to her (and Peter's) bedroom, but she knew Peter would be looking for her and this would be the first place that he would look. Her eyes scanned the room quickly before she turned on her heel and opened the door again. She took two steps out into the hallway and heard Peter's voice.

"Amelia?!" He was in the stairwell. He hadn't seen her yet, but it would be only a matter of moments. With no other choice, she withdrew back into the bedroom and shut the door.

Peter's footsteps echoed through the hall. He was running.

Amelia glanced around again. She had seconds before he'd arrive. Her eyes fell on the balcony and she crossed the room, stepping out of sight of the door just as she heard the latch click as Peter opened it. She pulled herself silently up onto the roof, praying that Peter wouldn't think to follow her, and padded quietly up the slope, to the nook where Peter had proposed to her, all that time ago. She realized as she sat down and pulled her knees up to her chest that that had been the last night she'd been up here.

And so she was torn. The memory put Peter at the forefront of her thoughts. She knew very well what she was putting Peter through by running away like that, but she couldn't face him with this shame. She couldn't face him after losing his child; she didn't deserve him after casting off her scars so carelessly. And she deserved him less for putting him through this pain by running from him again.

The tears rolled down her cheeks in torrents, but she was quiet. She couldn't risk someone hearing her. She was lost in her sorrow again, except this time, it had hit her when she'd least expected it and she hadn't the chance to withdraw into herself again before it washed over her. Hugging her knees to her chest, she cried. She buried her face in the fabric of her skirt and let it muffle her sobs once she was no longer able to hold them in.

Of all the things she felt, she felt sorry for Peter the most. She knew how much he loved her, but once they'd gotten married, it took only a few months for her to become someone else completely. She had no idea whether she'd be able to return to the woman that she'd been before; in fact, she would be ashamed of herself if she could. Losing a child was not something she could just get over and get back to normal. She felt sorry for Peter because, with those beautiful oaths spoken at the wedding, she'd managed to take from him any chance he had at being happy with his wife. Certainly, as scarred as she was now, Amelia would not be able to make him happy. She was not the woman he'd married, and the guilt of having not only taken from him his child, but also his wife, was nearly all-consuming.

Amelia remained, never moving, on the roof in the corner, for countless hours. The sun set and she barely noticed. Even when she'd run out of tears, she kept her face buried in her skirt and let herself drown in the onslaught of emotions until she fell asleep.

She woke to what seemed like nothing. She didn't hear the footsteps, for they were silent. She wasn't even aware of his presence until she felt something heavy and soft brush against her bare ankle. She lifted her gaze only to find herself staring into the eyes of Aslan himself. She opened her mouth to speak, but shock stole her voice.

"I know why your cry," he said, his voice heavy with the same sadness that she felt. "It pains me to see any of my children in such anguish."

"Forgive me," Amelia answered, her voice raw and quiet.

"Daughter of Eve, you have done nothing to require my forgiveness," Aslan answered, lying down on the roof in front of her so that his face was at the same level as hers. "You are confused and you are hurt, and it is I that must ask for your forgiveness."

Amelia watching him in silence, having no idea what to say.

Aslan shook his mane and spoke again. "Narnia cannot have an heir to the throne of Cair Paravel."

Amelia felt the breath being knocked out of her. "You mean to say... that if I get pregnant again, this will happen again?"

Aslan shook his head slowly, sadly. "You would not survive a second miscarriage."

Amelia felt the tears threatening to spill out of her eyes again. "I will never be a mother, then."

Aslan lifted his head and pressed his warm tongue to Amelia's forehead. It was oddly comforting; she felt the blinding pain that had forced her to escape washing out of her.

"I did not come here to cause you more pain, but to give you hope. Remember this always: you will meet your son," he said, getting to his feet again. "You will always have that promise to hold on to when there is no light left."

Amelia shut her eyes and smiled. The weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Her _son_. He was waiting for her and somewhere, someday, she would find him. Such an oath from Aslan himself was nothing less than complete assurance that it would happen. Someday.

"Narnia's story is written, but your son is not yet a part of that story. You will understand in time. Until then, let your faith carry you."

Amelia was surprised at just how easy it was to place her faith in the Lion. From anyone else, the words would have seemed absurd, the promises cruel when they were so impossible to keep. But in his presence, Amelia was filled with a peace so absolute that it seemed ludicrous to do anything but what he asked of her.

When she opened her eyes again, he was gone, as silently and quickly as he'd come. With his missing presence, though, the sense of peace had disappeared, too. Her shame over the smile (how suddenly it seemed like such a silly thing to get so upset over!) was gone, but now was replaced by guilt over the worry that Peter must have been feeling. She had to fix it. She scrambled to her feet, stumbling and cringing at the ache of stiff muscles from sitting in one place for so long. Crossing the roof, she dropped quietly down into the balcony and stepped into the bedroom, expecting Peter to be asleep.

Peter was not asleep, however. He had been sitting on the end of the bed, turning his wedding ring over in his fingers again. He'd heard the light thump of Amelia landing on the balcony and, sliding the ring back on his finger, had only just gotten to his feet when Amelia slipped into the room and froze, obviously surprised to see him awake at that late hour.

Both stood stalk still for a moment. It was Amelia who returned to her senses first. She very nearly threw herself across the room at Peter; he barely managed to catch her as she wrapped both of her arms around his chest, hugging him tightly.

"I'm sorry. I just... I don't even know why I was so upset," she admitted, her voice breathy.

Peter tightened his arms around her and sighed. "Are you alright?" He felt her nod against his chest, and relief flooded through him. Anger followed on short order. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back so he could look at her face. "Do you have any idea how worried I've been?! You just disappeared! With the way you've been acting recently, I'd no idea..." He paused and took at deep breath. The anger was washing away again, as quickly as it had come. "I didn't know if you were safe."

"I know," Amelia murmured. "I know. I've put you through so much these past months, and you've deserved none of it." She cleared her throat. "I have to apologize."

Peter shook his head. "You don't..." he began, but Amelia cut him off by putting a finger to his lips.

"Please, let me finish. I..." she began to speak, but seemed to be unsure of her words. She paused, kissing him gently. "I'm alright." She kissed him again, this time for longer. Whatever words she was trying to find were gone entirely when she felt Peter's fingers trail softly up her spine. Warmth began to gather in her abdomen and she was surprised by the sudden force of her need for him. She unclasped her hands and slipped them back around his torso so her hands rests on his chest. One arm made its way around his shoulders, pulling him closer, and the other trailed down to the edge of his untucked shirt, her fingers pushing it up and running the palm of her hand along the bare skin underneath. The feel of his skin was all it took to make her breaths start to come in short, sharp bursts.

Peter drew in a sharp breath and pulled out of the kiss, his arms tightening around her. His entire body went tense in an instant; he couldn't resist when Amelia started to guide him slowly towards the bed. "Amelia..." he breathed, trying to regain control of his voice and body. He didn't want her to push herself, to do something she wasn't yet ready to do. "Amelia, please..." he murmured as her other hand made its way under his shirt and pushed it off over his head. It sounded like he was begging for more, not asking her to stop, and he wasn't sure that he wasn't actually doing the former anyway. He felt his knees go weak and he sank down onto the bed as she began to remove her own clothes.

With only a slip left on, Amelia straddled him and kissed him so hard she split her lip.

It was the taste of blood that knocked Peter back to his senses. Gripping Amelia's shoulder's gently, he pushed her back until he could see her face. She watched him with some confusion on her face before trying to move in and kiss him again. Peter cupped his hand over her cheek, stopping her, and wiping the blood off of her mouth with his thumb. "You don't have to do anything, love."

Amelia sat back and took a deep breath. "I know. I'm not trying to prove anything - well, I am, I want you to know that I'm not going to hurt you anymore - but that doesn't mean I don't want this too." She blushed, averting her eyes. "I was kind of afraid you were going to say 'no'..."

Peter laughed, pulling her against his chest. "You honestly believe I could ever say 'no' to you?"

Amelia smiled. "You very nearly just did." She saw the subtle shift in Peter's expression as he took in her smile and she shook her head, trying to figure out how to best explain that she wasn't going to run off again. She wouldn't ever do it again, she told herself. "I'm alright. I was blaming myself for the..." She choked as her heart leaped into her throat. "For the miscarriage."

Peter immediately took her face into his hands. "It's not. It's not anywhere close to being your fault. You can't blame yourself."

"I'm not. Not anymore, at least." She offered him another small smile. "I'm okay now." She kissed him again, this time much more gently. "I'm okay," she breathed once more, before giving up on words entirely.

Peter seemed to believe her, because he started to slide his hand up her thigh, running his palm all the way up her side until he was able to pull her slip off over her head. With his hands on her hips, he twisted with her so that she was lying down with her head on the pillow, he on top of her. Soon, his lips were following the trail his hand had made.

When he reached her mouth, she pulled him in for a lingering kiss and tugged at the top of his pants. "No fair," she whispered, her voice thick and husky. "You're wearing more clothes than I am."

Peter took one look at the expression on her face and buried his face in her shoulder, shuddering at the sudden strain caused by her eyes alone. Her eyes could be incredibly seductive, alone more attractive than all of the most beautiful women in Narnia, or Archenland, or Calormen. He realized that he probably would have married her for her eyes alone. He sat up, avoiding looking her directly in the eyes, and stripped off his remaining clothes. His gaze raked up her body and he realized that everything about her had the same effect on him as her eyes. He ran his fingers up the insides of her thighs, indulging in the sight of her body reacting to the touch.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her exposed throat as she arched her back up to him.

Amelia tried to answer, but her voice had escaped her completely so she instead pulled him into a searing kiss, winding her arms around his shoulders and tangling her legs with his. She raked her fingers up his back, pulling his whole body down onto hers, molding herself against him. She was consumed by the need to be closer to him, though it would be near impossible to get any closer than she already was.

Peter put one hand flat against the small of her back and held her flush against him as he slid into her - slowly, since his attention was divided between that and the sensitive skin on his neck that she was kissing, whimpering into his ear.

The first time they were together that night, it was quick and bordering on desperate. They'd been apart for so long that it was overwhelming to both of them. The second time was much sweeter, slower, more gentle.

Peter was sitting with his back against the headboard, and Amelia was straddling his lap, rocking slowly back and forth. She was gliding her lips and hands across every inch of skin that she could reach. Peter had one arm around her waist, subtly guiding her movements. The other hand was buried in her hair and he was using it to try to draw her lips back up to his every chance he could get.

"I love you..." Amelia whispered against Peter's lips, swallowing a moan.

Peter opened his mouth to reply but, at that exact moment, the door slammed open, drawing his attention.

Lucy stood in the doorway and let out a little shriek. She knew instantly what Peter was up to but it took her a moment to realize that the woman with her brother was, in fact, Amelia. Of course, by then it was too late and darkness was already eating away at the corners of her vision, so with a sigh or relief that Amelia had been found, she abruptly fainted, collapsing to the stone floor with a dull thud.

* * *

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Reviews are lovely, as always!


	34. Lord and Lady Beaversdam

**Chapter 34 -- The Lord and Lady of Beaversdam**

"Don't worry about getting me some sleeping medicine, Lu. I'll be alright on my own."

Lucy knew better than to think that Peter was _actually_ alright, but she also knew better than to push the matter. "Alright, then. Call if you need anything." At the very least, she was hoping that Peter would come to her later, looking for sleep. She wandered off into her own room and prepared a quick sleeping remedy before slipping into her own bed.

She woke several hours later with a parched throat. She realized with a frown that she'd used the remaining water in the jug in her room to make the sleeping remedy. Pulling on a robe, she shuffled down the hallway, yawning. When she reached Peter's room, she paused outside door before she decided to check in; she wanted to offer him her sleeping remedy one more time. It wouldn't do to have him go without sleep, and it would put her mind to rest if she found him already sleeping.

Yawning a second time, Lucy pushed the door open and froze in shock. A squeak and a sigh later, she was on the floor.

* * *

Lucy groaned as she opened her eyes. Everything around her was so blurry that all she could pick out were two blots of colour against the white ceiling. Since one was a blot of fiery red, she knew that one was Amelia. The other let out a loud sigh of relief and she realized that it was Peter.

"Oh. Good morning," Lucy murmured, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

Amelia let out a quite laugh and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Did you sleep well?"

Lucy took another look around the room, confusing sweeping across her face. "What am I doing in here?" she asked; this was not her room, it was Peter and Amelia's.

Amelia and Peter exchanged meaningful glances, both faces reddening noticeably.

"Well, um, you fainted," Amelia answered vaguely.

Peter snickered, earning a glare marred by a smile from Amelia.

Lucy sat up and rubbed her head. "I did? But, I remember going to bed last night."

"You did, but you woke up in middle middle of the night," Amelia explained. "And then... you, um, saw something... unpleasant, so you fainted."

Peter snorted. "Unpleasant isn't exactly the word I'd use for it." He grunted, grinning, as Amelia dug her elbow into his ribs; despite her apparent displeasure at his words, he could tell she was trying desperately to keep from laughing.

Lucy may be innocent, naive even, but she wasn't stupid. She watched the exchange suspiciously, trying to force her memories to give up something that would give her a clue as to what in the world they were talking about. When she couldn't do that, she turned to Peter. "Alright, I'd like an explanation please. Just what exactly were you up to?"

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Why would you think we were involved in it at all? We just found you afterwards."

Amelia winced and Lucy realized that her elder brother had just contradicted Amelia. "Oh, well then how do you know that it was something I saw that caused me to faint? Could it not have been caused by anything? In fact, how do you know that I even fainted? Maybe I've started sleep walking. Anyways, you just said that I fainted because I saw something unpleasant, and you wouldn't have known that if you weren't there to see it, too."

Peter stared blankly at his sister for a moment, trying to figure out just how to get out of the situation he'd just put himself in. He gave up on logic after a few moments and, pulling himself up to his full height and crossing his arms, he said, "It doesn't matter anyways, because I won't tell you what you saw."

Lucy scowled for a moment before she finally put it all together: it was the middle of the night, Amelia had returned from her disappearance and they'd obviously made up. If Lucy had woken up and come into Peter and Amelia's room, it was suddenly clear what she must have seen. Her eyes went round as saucers and she blushed heavily. "I'm terribly sorry for just barging into your room. I must have come in without knocking; you never would have let me in otherwise."

"Do you remember, then?" Amelia asking slowly, looking almost afraid of the answer.

"No, but I can certainly guess at what I saw. I don't particularly want to remember, thank you."

Peter rolled his eyes as the the judgement he perceived in her tone. "Some day you'll understand, Lu."

Lucy stuck her tongue out at him. "I understand perfectly well, and you two are welcome to do whatever you please. I just don't want to see it."

Peter laughed. "Then maybe you should knock first, next time."

"Oh believe me, I've learned my lesson _very_ thoroughly."

* * *

Things began to return to normal, slowly but surely. The royals, who had stayed almost entirely locked in the private wing of the castle, began to re-emerge in the public eye as soon as Lucy's leg had finished healing enough that she could get up and down the winding staircases on her own. With the end of summer came another sighting of the White Stag, and several hunting excursions. As winter approached, the sightings began to move inland, towards Beaversdam, and shortly before Christmas, a invitation arrived at Cair Paravel for a winter ball, held by the Lord and Lady Beaversdam, to be followed the next day by a grand hunt for the Stag. It would be the last hunt before the snows arrived, after which tracking the Stag would be almost impossible. Nearly everyone who was anyone in Narnia would be there, and even some nobles from Archenland were coming. It wouldn't be the first gathering they had attended that year by any means, but it would certainly be the largest.

Amelia, riding ahead of the others on Farheart, lifted her face to the sky and grinned when a snowflake landed on her bottom lip. She licked it off and looked at Peter, who rode up beside her at that moment.

"Hopefully it won't gather on the ground, or the hunt may be very short lived," Peter noted.

Amelia shrugged and looked back up at the sky. After a moment of silence, she said, "I remember the first snow after you were crowned."

"The creatures flocked to Cair Paravel, afraid that the Witch had returned," Peter answered.

Amelia laughed quietly. "We kept a permanent patrol of the Witch's palace until spring. Deirdre was paranoid. The rest of us... well, our patrols quickly escalated into snowball wars, the likes of which Narnia has never seen, nor will probably ever see again."

Peter gaped at her. "You did this _in_ the Witch's Palace?"

"Oh, those columns in the entry hall made for the best ambushes," Amelia replied impishly.

Peter shook his head in disbelief. "I think I'd still be a little afraid of the place, even today."

"I doubt it." When Peter raised an eyebrow at her, Amelia grinned at him. "Not with the gigantic snowman we made on her throne."

Peter burst out laughing at that, and Amelia, encouraged, continued, "He's got a blue scarf and a spruce-branch crown. And his eyes are made of buttons, but they are so badly mismatched that he always looks like he's winking! And fat red lips made of winterberries, and bright green chest hair made of pine-needles! That was Adrianna's idea."

Each item just made Peter laugh harder until he was doubled-over in his saddle, resting his forehead against Arian's mane. "I wish I could have seen that. I would ride out there just to see the snowman alone."

Amelia shrugged. "We could, I suppose. He's probably still there."

Peter stared incredulously at her. "He must have melted that next summer."

"No, the palace always stays cold, even in the summer. Most of the walls and things are made of ice; the whole thing would have collapsed during the Great Melt if she hadn't magicked it to stay cold somehow."

Peter's face became abruptly serious. "So, her magic lives even after her death."

Amelia's expression took on the same grimness as Peter's. "So it would seem. But, perhaps it is the magic of that place that made her the Snow Witch, rather than her own magic placing the palace under a permanent winter."

Peter stared off into the distance. "Maybe." It was clear from his tone that he didn't put much stock in the idea. He was startled back to the present by the feeling of Farheart's side against his leg and Amelia's hand slipping into his.

"You shouldn't worry about her. She's gone; you brought peace to Narnia. You deserve to be proud of your victory, instead of having to worry about some residual magic in her stronghold."

Shortly afterward, Susan and Edmund rode up, flanking Amelia and Peter, followed shortly by Lucy. At Peter's urging, Amelia related the story of the snowman to the others, which sent Lucy on a tangent about how snow-people are always men, and how she wanted to build a bunch of snow-women this winter with her sisters to make up for it. Susan and Amelia agreed whole-heartedly, causing Peter and Edmund to challenge them to a snowman-making contest, and it was decided that the team with the most snow-people in the courtyard of Cair Paravel by the end of the winter was the winner.

By the time the rules of their newly-created contest had been ironed out, they had reached the edge of Beaversdam. There, they met a page from the household of the Lord and Lady of Beaversdam, who led them back to the winter lodgings where the party would take place.

"Your Majesties! I'm so pleased you could come!" Lady Beaversdam greeted as she came out of the house to meet them. She was an elderly, regal woman with white hair who looked much younger than she truly was thanks to the air of energy constantly surrounding her.

"Thank you so much for the invitation! We were all so excited when we received it!" Susan exclaimed, dismounting and greeting the elder woman with a warm hug.

The light snow turned to heavy rain then, with almost no warning, so with a cry of surprise and dismay, Lady Beaversdam ushered them into the house.

Amelia bit her lip, trying to hold in her laughter, when she got a look at her companions in the front foyer of the manor. As regal and royal as they had looked on the ride over, it had only taken a few moments of the torrential downpour to turn them into drowned rats.

"Oh no!" Edmund moaned as he took one last glance back out the door before it was closed. "The rest of our clothes are still on the horses and are, undoubtedly, wetter now that we are," he informed the group, frowning at the look of growing displeasure of the faces of his sisters and brother.

Lady Beaversdam clicked her tongue. "Terrible timing! My ladies, come with me. I'm sure I can find you something dry to wear of my own. Or perhaps something belonging to one of the maids might fit you better, though I can't promise the kind of luxury you would be used to..." She paused at the bottom of the sweeping staircase and poked her head through the doorway at the foot of the stairs. "John! Love! Come here, please!"

In a moment, Lord Beaversdam came rushing into the foyer. "By the Lion! You must be freezing!" He rushed over to the drenched Pevensie family and took a quick look over Peter and Edmund. "I'm afraid nothing of mine would be big enough to fit either of you, but my nephew is here and I think you might fit into something of his. Come upstairs with me, and we'll get you something dry to wear."

Both Lady and Lord of the house led the way up the stairs and into the private wing of the manor. The Lady of Beaversdam led the girls down a short hall and into the private quarters she shared with her husband, while the Lord of the house led Peter and Edmund along a terrace to the guest room being used by his visiting nephew.

When Amelia, Susan and Lucy entered the sitting room that led the way into the rest of the private quarters, the maids waiting within took one look at them and flew into action; the girls were ushered behind screens, piled with towels and blankets, and told to remove their wet clothing as quickly as possible. "It won't do at all to have one of your Majesties catch cold!"

In only a few moments, all three ladies were wrapped snuggly in bathrobes and blankets and sitting before a fire while the maids went about finding some suitable clothes that would fit them.

Lady Beaversdam joined them only after sending one of the maid for tea and another to make sure the Kings had been similarly dried and warmed up. "Tea and relaxation are the best cures for a cold, and I intend to ensure that you get as much of both as you need, your Majesties."

"Thank you for your kindness, Lady Maria. You've done more for us in the ten minutes since we've arrived than we could ever have asked of you," Amelia said, smiling gratefully.

"You're most welcome, my Lady. I just wish we had something for you to wear. The girls are already working on drying the clothes that you brought with you downstairs, but until they are dry, I'm afraid we don't have much clothing that would be suitable for three Queens..."

"Truly, we are extremely grateful for what you have done for us already, and we're very thankful to both you and your maids for so freely lending us your own things while our clothes dry off," Lucy assured her.

"Whatever your maids can find will certainly be gratefully received, and I'm sure it will be perfectly suitable," Susan added.

Lady Beaversdam still seemed to be fretting over the quality of clothing that she had to offer the young Queens. "But I'm afraid it won't be the luxurious clothing that you're used to."

Amelia couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry yourself over it, Lady Maria. Given a choice, my sisters and I tend towards simpler, more comfortable clothing in private settings like this."

Lucy giggled. "Pretty clothes are lovely to look at, but they're rarely as comfortable as a fine cotton dress."

Susan was about to add her own opinion when, in turning her head, she realized that her wet hair was dripping on the carpet behind the chair. With a cry of surprise and a spout of polite apologies, she got to her feet and twisted her hair over her shoulder, trying to contain the dripping while in fact, she only succeeded in making it worse.

"Not to worry, your Majesty. The carpet will be fine, I'm sure. Perhaps we should put it up to keep it from getting your robes wet?" Lady Maria suggested.

Susan relaxed into her chair again, nodding. "That would be lovely."

Lady Maria soon discovered that all of her maids were already busy preparing other comforts for the visiting queens and so, taking a ribbon from her dresser, offered to braid Susan's hair herself.

Amelia soon discovered that her own hair was as sopping wet as Susan's and Lucy, whose hair was much finer, had hair that was nearly dry already, so she pulled one of her own ribbons out of her hair and offered to tie Amelia's up as well.

And so the women sat in front of the fire, Maria and Lucy sitting in chairs with Susan and Amelia sitting cross legged on the floor in front of them, talking quietly, laughing often. At some point during the conversation, they became less royal guests visiting their noble subjects and more like sisters visiting an Aunt.

For the hundredth time, Lady Beaversdam tugged accidentally on a loose strand of Susan's hair, and said, "Are you alright, your Majesty? I do apologize if I'm pulling. My fingers aren't quite as deft as they used to be."

Susan smiled. "I'm alright. With all the fancy hair-styles that my girls like to put me in for the balls at Cair Paravel, I'm rather surprised I can still feel the top of my head at all! And truly, you don't need to call me 'your Majesty' all the time. It's a very long and awkward title, don't you agree?"

"What would you prefer then, Queen Susan?"

Susan hummed her delight as Lady Maria raked her fingers through her hair. "Perhaps, for this evening, we can be a little less formal than propriety requires. You are, after all, playing with my hair, which I doubt is considered strictly proper." Lady Maria paused and tentatively removed her hands from Susan's head, prompting Susan to look up at her with a smile. "No, no, I quite enjoy this. It's so nice to take a break from formality. Would you be terribly opposed to the idea of just calling me Susan?"

The look of surprise was evident in the expression of the Lady of Beaversdam, but it soon turned to quiet delight. "I'm honoured that you feel you can be so informal with me. I agree. For tonight, we are just four women spending an evening in each other's company. You will be Susan, and I should certainly just be Maria."

"I quite like this idea," Amelia added. "Just Amelia for me, then."

"And I, Lucy!" the youngest queen exclaimed. In her usual style, Lucy emphasized her pleasure with an exuberant motion of her hands, which would have been alright if a few strands of Amelia's hair hadn't be caught in the ring she'd been wearing on her index finger.

Amelia let out a squeak of surprise and pain, rubbing her head. "Gently, please, Lucy."

Lucy blushed, trailing gentle fingers over the spot that she'd pulled the hairs from. "Sorry." She removed the two of the three rings that she'd been wearing, and showed the third to Amelia, still on her hand. "I promise, this one won't pull. It's far too worn to have anything to catch on. I just dislike taking it off."

Amelia bit her lip to hide her smile. "Is that the one Mr Tumnus gave you?"

Lucy nodded. "At my coronation. I've only ever removed it to move it from finger to finger as I grew."

Susan was looking curiously at the ring Lucy was now staring at. "I'd never really noticed it before. It looks almost the same colour as your skin." She paused, looking closer. "Is it made of wood?"

Lucy nodded. "He made it for me himself. I feel very strange if I take it off. Like I'm missing some little part of me."

Maria looked surprised. "I hadn't heard anything about Queen Lucy having a suitor."

Lucy blushed. "He's not my suitor. Just an old friend. My first, in fact. And please, just Lucy if you don't mind."

Susan let out a strangled giggle Lucy's explanation, and Amelia realized that Susan saw the growing relationship, too.

Maria looked a little chagrined. "My apologies. I just assumed he was courting you because many women feel that very same way about their wedding rings, myself included."

"Not to worry. I'm certainly not offended. It happens strangely often, in fact," Lucy noted, frowning a little as she thought about the number of people who assumed them to be courting.

Amelia couldn't hold in her laughter this time, and she let out a high-pitched squeak before bursting out laughing, which in turn caused Susan to break into laughter as well.

Lucy and Maria each looked at each other in hopes of finding an explanation, but both were equally lost, which just sent Amelia and Susan into another fit of giggles.

A maid chose that moment to knock on the door.

"Come in," Maria called, not looking up from her work on Susan's hair.

The maid walked in and paused for a split second when she saw the scene before her. It didn't seem to take her long to accept it, and she even seemed a little bit pleased at the sight, once she got over her surprise. She took her place just behind Lady Maria's chair and curtsied. "The dresses are dry. We can bring them up whenever their Majesties would like them."

"I suppose if you just bring them up now, we'll change into them once we're finished here," Lucy suggested, smiling brightly at the young maid girl. "Thank you for letting us know!"

The dresses arrived shortly after, and each woman had her dresses taken into one of the private rooms in the master quarters. The hair was finished by then, so, one by one, they drifted off into the rooms to get changed.

Amelia stepped back into the main room to have Susan sneak up on her from behind. She yelped in surprise when the Gentle Queen touched her shoulder, spinning around and gasping for breath.

Susan giggled. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to ask you about something."

Amelia grinned, her eyes dancing. "Lucy and Tumnus, by chance?"

"So you've noticed it too, then!" Susan confirmed, guiding her elder sister-in-law back to the chairs that were still positioned in front of the fire.

"Of course I have! It's a miracle that all of Narnia doesn't know!" Amelia exclaimed, earning a "Shush!" from Susan.

"Well, certainly they don't even know themselves yet..." Susan noted.

"But those involved in the relationship _always_ figure it out last of everyone close to them."

Susan bit her lip, grinning. "Including you and Peter, I'd like to point out."

Blushing, Amelia shrugged. "Well, yes, but that's not what we're talking about here." That made Susan laugh, rather loudly, and Lucy opened her door with a curious expression.

"What's so funny?" she asked, coming to join them.

Susan fell into another bout of laughter, this time out of the embarrassment of nearly getting caught in their conversation, but Amelia answered easily, "Susan was teasing me. Nothing particularly unusual."

"Not being mean, I hope," Lucy prodded with a smile.

"Of course not! Su doesn't have a mean bone in her body!" Amelia said, making a motion like putting a halo over Susan's head, who couldn't defend herself as she was still incapacitated by laughter.

Lucy let out a ringing laugh and made wings on Susan's back out of her hands.

Susan tried to swat her hands away but gave up easily, still giggling and settling instead for hiding her face in her hands.

A knock at the door distracted them and, as Lady Maria was coming out of her room, the door into the terrace opened. A young man was standing there, with a charming smile. "Your Majesties, the Kings are downstairs with my uncle and request your company."

-----------------

Tada! I'm back from the dead! Actually, school's kicking my ass. On the plus side, though, I seem tobe _finally_ getting over my writer's block. And I've been writing more about the end of the story :) So! Reviews are nice, like always, and I hope you enjoyed the chappie!


	35. The Grand Ball

**Chapter**** 35 - ****The ****Grand ****Ball**

Amelia couldn't really call herself surprised when Susan spent most of the evening dancing with the dashing young nephew of the Lord and Lady Beaversdam. He _was_ certainly charming and Susan hadn't taken her eyes off of him since he invited them downstairs. He seemed nice enough, in any case, and Susan looked like she was having a grand time with him as they spun across the dance floor.

It wasn't as though Amelia watched the party from the edges of the room, however; Peter had apparently decided that they hadn't danced together in too long, and that they should make up for all their lost time in a single evening. Certainly, Amelia loved to dance with her husband, but her feet were aching terribly by the time he was willing to let her sit down.

"Give me a moment to rest!" Amelia demanded, giggling as she tried to pull out of his arms.

Peter, on the other hand, simply grinned and tightened his hold on her waist. "You can't possibly be tired yet, angel! I could keep dancing for hours!"

Amelia lifted an eyebrow. "That may be so, but _you__'__re_ not wearing Narnia's most uncomfortable shoes."

Laughing, Peter guided her effortlessly off the floor and showed her to an empty chair. "But they're quite beautiful," he observed, letting his eyes move down her entire form to the jeweled shoes on her feet. He smirked as she shifted in her seat, the seam of her dress falling so that her calves were revealed for only a moment. He sat down next to her and placed his lips perilously close to her ear. "And the way they make your legs look..." he murmured, making a sound like a quiet growl and grinning wider when she began to blush.

"Oh, hush, Peter. You can't even see my legs for all the layers of fabric in this dress," Amelia hissed, trying unsuccessfully to wipe the smile off of her face. "Anyways, you shouldn't say such things in public!" she added, lowering her voice even further.

He scoffed and leaned back into his chair. "No one is paying any attention to us, love. I'm sure I could say just about anything and no one would be any the wiser."

"Wiser of what, my dear King?" a jovial, though possibly drunk, voice asked. The voice belonged to an older man with a glass of wine in his hand, his hair balding and his beard full and grey.

Amelia had no idea who he was, but from the exasperated look on Peter's face, she doubted he was someone she wanted to talk to.

When Peter didn't answer the question, he turned to Amelia. "And you must be the lovely High Queen! Such a shame I haven't gotten the chance to introduce myself before now! I am Lord Tanis of the Marshes."

Standing, Amelia took his outstretched hand graciously, letting him kiss her fingers. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Tanis." Behind her smile, she was wracking her brain. She'd heard his name before, she was sure of it. She just couldn't remember for the life of her where from.

"The pleasure is all mine, to be sure," Lord Tanis answered, puffing out his chest. "Now tell me, have you ever been to the Marshes in spring?"

Amelia paused thoughtfully. "Late spring, yes, once. I passed through with the Western Tribes shortly after the Winter."

Lord Tanis clasped his hands together and the look on his face told her that he thought her deprived of something essential. "My goodness! We simply must have you come visit during the height of the spring! You haven't lived until you've seen the Marshes in full bloom, I tell you!"

Peter was on his feet then, one arm around Amelia, and he was already gently leading her away from Lord Tanis. "We will come visit, of that you can be certain, but we really should be going..."

"Nonsense! Not before I tell you about the strawberries, anyway. Marshes strawberries have no equal, and, as you might expect, they are at their absolute best in spring. One year, my wife and I..."

And then Amelia realized where she'd heard his name before. Lucy had once told her the story of the man who had talked her ear off for several hours about the subtle differences between two types of stone, something she was sure he'd known absolutely nothing about. Only now she recalled the man's name was Lord Tanis. Frowning at Peter, whose face had settled into a pained smile as he listened to Tanis talk on and on about strawberries, she began to consider how they might escape.

Over an hour later, Amelia had yet to come up with a viable plan that didn't involve being incredibly rude: any time she'd tried to excuse them politely, Tanis had somehow managed to rope them back into the conversation. It was beginning to look like they'd be stuck there the rest of the night. In the time they'd been trapped there, he'd gone from strawberries to the latest fashions to a bridge in Beaversdam that was apparently a marvel of engineering.

Letting her eyes wander the room while Tanis spoke more directly to Peter, Amelia caught sight of a knot of young women, giggling near the center of the room. Curious, she continued to watch them until the group parted, revealing a new mother revelling in the attentions she and her newborn baby were getting. Amelia felt her stomach clench as a familiar pain took hold of her. _That__should__be__me__..._

Peter felt Amelia's hand clench suddenly, her fingernails digging into his arm. He glanced down at her, alarmed, and followed her eyes instantly to the woman and the baby. He smiled a half-smile at Tanis and nodded once, sensing that it was an appropriate time in the one-sided conversation to do so, and then turned his attention back to his wife. Her grip was tightening and he could easily see the pain on her face. He needed to get her out of here. She needed a moment to compose herself.

"Well, Tanis, that's very interesting!" He spoke quickly, eager to end the conversation. "But I'm afraid we must part ways."

"But your Majesty, I haven't even told you the best part!" Tanis argued, still blissfully unaware of the expression on Amelia's face.

Peter shook his head. "I'm sorry, perhaps another time. I'm afraid my wife might be feeling a bit unwell, and I would like to have her seen to as quickly as possible."

Amelia tore her eyes away from the baby for a moment to look up at Peter. She hoped her gratitude was obvious enough on her face.

"Well," Tanis said, taking a deep breath, "my cousin is an incredible healer. I've picked up a few things from him over the years, you know. I might know a thing or two to help."

"Thank you for the offer, but..." Peter began, only to have Tanis interrupt him.

"No, really, your Majesty, I insist. It will only take but a moment."

"We really should..."

"I'm sure I know just the thing."

"But..."

"I can see it on her face. I know exactly what is ailing her."

"Tanis..." Peter's tone took on an edge of warning now, but still Tanis interrupted him.

"Now, the best way to deal with such a sickness..." But as Tanis began to speak, Lady Beaversdam swept into view, all smiles and grace.

"Ah, here you are, Queen Amelia! I've been looking everywhere for you!" she exclaimed, taking Amelia's free hand in her own. "Good evening, your Majesty, Lord Tanis." Tanis opened his mouth to reply, but before he could get a word out, Lady Beaversdam was speaking again. "Now, I do believe I promised you a tour of the gardens, and it will be getting far too cold outside if we wait for much longer." She looked up at the men once. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt your conversation, but I'm afraid I must take Queen Amelia out now, or our chance will be gone." Tanis was opening his mouth again, but, again, Lady Beaversdam cut him off neatly. "Well, gentlemen, I appreciate your willingness to part with the lovely Queen for this short while, and I assure you that we'll be back before you know it! Come on now, dear!" And with a sweep of her skirts, she gathered Amelia and swept them both out of the room and out into the gardens.

"Ah, Gregory!" Lady Beaversdam called, noticing two young serving boys standing on the steps. "Would you please find something warm for Queen Amelia and myself while we tour the gardens?"

Nodding once, the taller of the two boys scurried off.

Amelia looked up at Maria, rubbing her arms to ward off the cold. She was almost a bit dizzy from the speed at which she'd been removed from the ballroom. It was clear, though, that Maria had known why she needed to leave, from the way she was looking at Amelia now. "I... Thank you."

Maria watched her with tenderness in her eyes. "Think nothing of it, dear. I'm only glad I could help."

A moment later, Gregory returned with two coats and, to the surprise of the ladies in the garden, Lucy and Susan in tow.

"I understand there is a tour of the gardens taking place?" Susan asked as the two queens arrived.

Maria looked taken by surprise for a moment and then, with a slight shrug and a smile, she answered, "Indeed, I was just about to take Queen Amelia for a short tour of our Winter gardens. They are quite lovely, even before the snow had fallen."

The ladies spent nearly an hour walking the gardens, giving Amelia time to compose herself and come to terms with the fact that she would undoubtedly see the new mother again once they inevitably returned to the ball.

Approaching the staircase up to the balcony, the small group met Peter, who was on his way out to the gardens.

"There you are!" A smile broke out across his face as he spotted them. He trotted across the grass towards them and took Amelia's hands in his as soon as he reached her. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, thanks to Lady Maria," Amelia answered, pulling her hands from his and wrapping her arms around his torso instead, resting her head against his chest.

Maria herself looked a bit startled by the display of affection between them. Lucy began to laugh. "They're always like this. It's only been an hour, I know. Honestly, I don't know how they survive being apart for more than a day."

Amelia twisted around and stuck her tongue out at Lucy, earning a giggle from Susan.

"Come on, I'm sure people are wondering where we've gotten to," the Gentle Queen said, motioning for the others to follow her up the stairs.

The rest of the evening passed mostly uneventfully. They succeeded in avoiding Tanis, and though the woman with her new baby was still there when they returned, Amelia was much better prepared. She even managed to congratulate the young woman near the end of the night and, since it was no secret what had happened to Amelia, the young mother had nearly started crying at the sentiment. Susan was slightly disappointed to find that her dance partner seemed to have no inclination to part from his new crush now that she'd returned from her walk, but she had plenty of other men waiting for a chance to dance with her, so she wasn't too upset for long.

The party died down shortly after midnight and the guests began to thank the hosts and say their goodnights. Peter and Amelia were among the last to retire to their room.

Peter was tugging off his shirt while Amelia brushed out her hair, grumbling loudly every time she found a pin still hidden somewhere inside her mess of curls. He turned around to face her, smiling at the look of concentration on her face as she began to fish out more pins.

"I'm proud of you, angel."

Amelia paused, looking up at his reflection in the mirror in front of her. "Why? What did I do?"

"The woman with her baby this evening. No one would have thought any less of you if you'd simply avoided her, or even if you had decided to leave the party. Instead... instead you walked right up to her and told her how happy you were for her."

Amelia rolled her eyes. "Sure, after I left the party for an hour to calm myself down."

Peter walked up behind her and helped her pull out the pins at the back of her head, kissing the top of her head as he did so. "That took great courage."

"Leaving?" Amelia asked, confused.

Peter grinned. "No, coming back."

_H__'__okay__, __this __one__'__s __short__, __but __it__'__s __pretty __much __filler __so__... __Hopefully __this __is __a __sign __that __the __hiatus __is __over__! __I__'__m __already __well __on __my __way __to __finishing __the __next __chapter__, __so __expect __me __to __post __it __reasonably __soon__! __For __those __of __you __who __stuck __with __me __through __the __hiatus__, __I __can__'__t __thank __you __enough__! __And __I__'__m __looking __forward __to __hearing __from __any __new __readers __as __well__! __Love __you __guys__!_


	36. The Last Raid

**Chapter**** 36: ****The ****Last ****Raid**

Years passed and the time of the Pevensie reign became known as Narnia's Golden Age. Though a few pockets of Witch support still existed on the edges of Narnia, there was peace and prosperity that seemed unending.

In time, Susan met a man who swept her entirely off her feet. He was kind, gentle, generous and everything she could have hoped for in a man. His name was Prince Rabadash, the crown prince of Calormen. Relations between Calormen and Narnia had always been strained due to Calormen's policy of keeping slaves, and Peter himself had only met the man once but immediately distrusted him.

"No, Susan, I will not allow it. You cannot travel to Calormen alone. It's too dangerous," Peter said, glowering at his sister even as she glared straight back at him.

"Dangerous?" she scoffed. "Rabadash is crown prince, what could possibly happen to me with him there to protect me?"

"_He__'__s _the one you'll need protection from, dear sister, mark my words." He was raising his voice now, obviously getting angry.

Amelia touched Peter's arm, trying to calm him. "Perhaps he truly does love her. If that is the case, then we should have nothing at all to worry about. A man would not let the woman he loves come to harm."

"Regardless, we certainly can't allow you to go unescorted, Susan. I will join you," Edmund replied. He turned to Peter. "And if it puts your heart at ease, I will keep an eye on Prince Rabadash."

Peter was clearly going to argue, but Amelia interrupted him. "Edmund will watch Susan, Peter, and that has to be enough. We have the raid to attend to."

Peter nodded. "Fine. I will take the army north tomorrow, after we see you off," he said to Susan and Edmund. Standing, he offered a hand to his wife. "Come, we must discuss strategy."

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The only shadow of Narnia's Golden Age was the constant rumblings of giant rebellion in the North. Though each rebellion had been quickly and neatly put down, the Narnian generals had suggested that they were not reaching the heart of the rebel group and each battle only sowed more seeds of anger and vengeance against the Crown. A rebellion was brewing again, but this time the Narnian army would raid the heart of giant territory, hoping to find and eliminate the rebel leaders who would not be otherwise found on the battlefield.

The army was lead by Peter and Amelia acted as head of the battlefield healers as she always had. Susan's most trusted second-in-command would be leading the archers in her absence. Lucy was to remain at the castle to rule over civil matters while her siblings were away.

The morale of the army was incredibly high, despite the near-week's worth of walking that it took to get the mass of the army to the border of giant territory. Over the years, Amelia had developed the habit of singing loudly while she rode with the army, letting her voice carry over the men in the wind. The result was that she was constantly surrounded by a knot of soldiers calling for a song. She didn't mind; who was she to complain when she was capable of boosting morale so very easily? It was a skill other generals would kill for.

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The night before the battle, Peter burst into the tent he shared with Amelia and collapsed onto their hammock, head in his hands. Amelia, who had been readying herself for bed, turned to face him, concern in her eyes.

"What's wrong, love?"

Peter sighed loudly. "I fear for what will happen tomorrow. This place is the heart of the rebellion, but it is a civilian town. How many innocents will be caught up in the battle tomorrow?"

Amelia crawled onto the hammock next to him, running her fingers through his hair. "I know it's only a small thing, but consider how many innocent lives we are saving by ending this here and now. How many innocents have the giants killed in their raids? There is less death this way."

Peter frowned. "That doesn't really make me feel any better."

"I know, love. I know."

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The battle was a success, but Peter took an arrow in the shoulder during the fight. He was taken back to his tent during the battle by a few of Amelia's battlefield healers. She had to fight to resist the screaming urge to go with him, but she knew that she was the last one who should be in charge of healing him, being his wife.

Once the battle was over, she wandered the battlefield looking for survivors who needed aid. She paid special attention to civilian giants who had been caught in the battle, hoping to foster a better relationship between her people and the giants. She was in the middle of tending to a giant woman who had been grazed by a stray spear when a healer came running up to her.

"Your Majesty, King Peter is asking for you."

Amelia straightened immediately. "Is he alright?"

The healer smiled. "Yes, he's fine, if a bit sore. You should go see him. I will take care of this one," she said, gesturing to the giant.

Amelia smiled gratefully and mounted Farheart, who immediately burst into a gallop across the field.

Amelia strode into her tent, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the relative darkness. Two healers stood next to the hammock where Peter lay sleeping.

"His shoulder is bound and he should try to avoid moving too much, but he should be fine," the older, male healer said when he saw the queen approaching.

"Thank you," Amelia answered, the relief at finally seeing Peter alright obvious in her voice.

"We should leave him to sleep," the healer said, motioning for his apprentice to follow him out of the tent.

Sighing deeply, Amelia turned to look for a chair when Peter's hand caught her wrist.

"I thought you were supposed to be asleep," she accused, her voice warm.

One of Peter's eyes opened and he smiled at her. "Yes. Supposed to be." He tugged on her hand and shifted over in the hammock to make room for her.

Amelia leaned over him, smiling smugly. "Shouldn't I leave you to sleep?"

"I'll sleep better with you here," Peter answered immediately.

Amelia laughed, crawling onto the hammock next to him. "Hmmm... I'm sure sleep is exactly the activity you're looking to participate in."

Peter raised an eyebrow, brushing his lips against hers. "Did you have another suggestion?" he asked huskily, his hands wandering over her body.

Amelia rolled her eyes and grabbed his wrists. "You're not supposed to move around very much."

Peter grinned mischievously and caught her by the waist, rolling onto his back and pulling Amelia on top of him, laughing when she let out a cry of surprise. "So I won't move very much then. Injury has never really stopped us before."

Amelia couldn't deny that she wanted him and the voice in her head telling her that she should leave him to rest was easy to silence. She leaned forward, pressing her chest against his and letting her hair fall in a curtain around them. "Tempting me so when you should be sleeping? You are a _very_ bad man, my love."

Peter grinned in response and captured her mouth in a kiss. "I suppose that's what makes me so good in bed," he answered cheekily.

Laughing, Amelia sat up and tugged her shirt off over her head.

Peter couldn't help but stare at the view. The sight of his wife's body always took his breath away.

Kissing her way from his navel to his neck, Amelia smiled as he shivered from the sensation of her breath against his shoulder. "Try to stay still. Just lie back and enjoy."

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Peter and Amelia had no qualms with using Peter's injury as an excuse to stay alone in the tent as long and as often as possible. They had to be present during the day to help direct the cleanup and rebuilding of the giant town, but they always retired to their tent as soon as they could.

Amelia was sitting in Peter's arms one night, drinking her tea and watching the flame of the candles dance. "It will be nice to be back in Cair Paravel."

Peter laughed quietly. "With a real bed, yes. Hammocks are... challenging."

Draining the last of her tea, Amelia twisted around and pushed Peter back down on the hammock. "Challenging, yes, but also so very much fun..."

Peter let out a low laugh and grabbed her by the waist, flipping them over so that she was caught beneath him.

It was no true secret that this was how the High King and Queen were spending their time alone, but no one, not even the healers, could truly say they minded. Such love could be nothing but good for Narnia and its monarchy, even if it meant that Peter would need a few extra days of healing before he would be completely better.

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The army was soon to return to Cair Paravel. The relations with the giants were mending quickly, thanks in no small part to the way Amelia's healers had taken to helping the giants with the same urgency and gentleness they showed to their own army.

Amelia wandered into the cook's area early one morning, watching the bustle of the people there as they tried to get ready for breakfast. A stout woman with grey hair was wiping flour off of her hands when she turned to smile at Amelia. "My dear queen, what can I do for you this fine morning?"

Amelia beamed back at her. "Good morning, Ambrose. I'm looking for some of my tea."

Ambrose nodded once and began to rummage through her bag, producing a handful of dried tea leaves and holding them up. "This is what you're looking for, right?"

Amelia sniffed the air over the leaves cautiously and then shook her head. "My tea has coriander seeds in it," she answered.

Ambrose shrugged. "Well, if you wanted coriander seeds, then I suppose we could just add them," she suggested, going back into her bag as Amelia watched her, confusion written all over her face.

Suddenly Amelia let out a sharp gasp, her hands flying to her mouth. "Oh, Ambrose, is that the tea I've been drinking this entire trip?"

Ambrose nodded without turning around. "If I'd've known your preference for coriander, I'd've started adding it from the beginning."

Struggling to hold back tears, Amelia turned on her heel and strode away from Ambrose without even telling her that she was leaving. Her eyes darted about, looking for the easiest route of escape from the camp. She needed to be alone.

It was hours later when Amelia finally stopped walking, and then only because she could go no further. She was standing at the top of a rocky cliff, looking out over the depths of giant territory - great evergreen forests as far as the eye could see, pierced here and there by rocky outcrops. She dropped to her knees, pressing her hands over her belly and sobbing softly.

"Oh Aslan... please... help me..."

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Aw yeah, another update. Sweet! So I'm curious to know how many of you know what's up with Amelia. There are a couple of really obvious references to stuff earlier in the story that should tell you, but, given how long it's been since I actually posted those chapters, I want to know who remembers :P Don't worry, though, even if you don't know, you'll find out (probably) next chapter :)


	37. Hunt for the White Stag

**Chapter 37: Hunt for the White Stag**

Peter was worried for his wife. Out of the blue, it seemed, she had retreated inside herself, becoming very anti-social and reserved, going so far as to refuse to let him even touch her. It was driving him mad with worry - he could help but be reminded of the way she had acted after the miscarriage and feared some sort of relapse.

"Why will you not tell me what's wrong?" he demanded one night just after the army had set up camp.

Amelia, who had been curled up in a corner staring off into space, looked up at him with a blank expression. "What makes you think something's wrong?"

Peter frowned, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands in his. "You haven't been happy in days, love. You haven't even been sad, or angry or... anything."

Amelia shrugged, pulling her hands out of his gentle grip. "I'm simply pensive."

Peter groaned and stood, running one of his hands through his hair. "If I've done something to upset you, shout at me all you wish. Anything to bring you back to me."

Amelia flinched, realizing what her behaviour must look like to him. "I... I'm sorry, Peter. I simply can't talk about it right now. I'll be alright once we get back to the castle," she promised, trying a smile but managing only a slight grimace.

Sighing heavily, Peter sat down next to her and gathered her into his arms, at least mildly pleased by the fact that she didn't resist. "I don't want to lose you again..."

Amelia wrapped her arms around his torso and buried her face into his chest. "I'm not going anywhere, love."

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When Peter and Amelia returned to Cair Paravel, they learned that things in Calormen had taken a turn for the worse with Susan and Edmund. Rabadash had tried to prevent them from leaving. A young noblewoman named Aravis and a boy who had turned out to be Cor, lost prince of Archenland, had helped them escape, along with a pair of talking horses who had been kidnapped and taken to Calormen from Narnia at birth. In response to the escape, Rabadash had led his armies against Anvard. Lucy had taken what remained of the Narnian army from Cair Paravel and aided King Lune in the battle alongside Edmund while Susan had returned to Narnia to await Peter and Amelia.

Truth be told, Amelia was thankful for something to keep Peter distracted. She had started drinking her tea again as soon as she could, but there was no way to know if it was too late.

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"I'm worried about Amelia," Peter said quietly when Edmund demanded to know why Peter kept losing to him at chess in less than 20 rounds. "She's been ill for nearly two weeks, but she's been withdrawn and sad since the battle with the giants. She won't tell me what's wrong."

"But I thought the battle went well," Edmund answered, clearing the chess board off the table.

Peter stretched, frowning as he remembered it. "It did. In fact, she was fine up until around the time I was finished healing from the arrow. She disappeared from the camp for nearly an entire day and when she got back, she barely spoke to anyone."

Tumnus looked up from his book. "Perhaps that was the beginning of the illness, sire. She may have simply started feeling unwell, and it affected her mood."

Peter shook his head. "No, no, I know how Amelia gets when she feels sick. It's nothing like that. It's more like... like..." he choked on his words. Even now, years later, it was hard for him to say 'miscarriage'.

Edmund and Tumnus exchanged knowing looks. The royal family might well fall apart if Amelia relapsed.

Shutting his book with a snap, Tumnus stood up. "Then perhaps I have a solution, your Majesty. I've heard rumors that the White Stag is in the area again. It would be easy enough to wish for her good health."

Edmund nodded. "And perhaps it would be good for us to get out of the castle for a while. Amelia can stay in the good hands of the healers here. Perhaps she simply needs some time alone to relax and recover."

Peter sighed, holding his face in his hands. "Maybe you're right. Perhaps I'm only agitated from being shut in the castle like this. A hunt would help me see everything in a clearer light."

Edmund clapped Peter on the shoulder. "Wonderful. I'll have everything ready to go for tomorrow afternoon."

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Edmund was right - the hunt had done the siblings a world of good. Even with worry hanging constantly over his head like a cloud, Peter couldn't help but enjoy himself, and the farther they rode from Cair Paravel, the more he felt like Amelia was simply a little sick, and she would be just fine, back to her normal self, when they returned.

They tracked the Stag to the Lantern Wastes.

"Oh, Edmund, you're so _slow_!" Lucy cried, laughing as she rode in a circle around her brother. "We'll never catch the Stag at a walk!"

Edmund scowled at her. "Be nice, Lucy, Philip isn't as young as he used to be."

Philip snorted in agreement. "I might be persuaded to go a little faster, however," the horse suggested, giving Lucy a whinnying laugh.

Lucy reached down to pat Philip's nose, giggling. "You sly Beast! I know what you want!" She reached into a pocket in her riding gown and produced a small sugar cube. "Here, you rascal."

Philip took the treat gratefully, pulling back his lips to shoot Lucy a silly, horsey grin.

Edmund started to laugh. "Oh, you've done it now, Philip. She'll expect you to gallop the rest of the day now."

Philip snorted. "Then I'm sorry to say, my Queen, that you'll be sorely disappointed."

A moment later, Peter came galloping out of the thicket on Arian. "Hurry up, you two! Susan's already gone ahead! You know how she rides! We'll never be able to catch up to her!"

Trotting into the bushes, the three of them found Susan stopped next to the mess of branches they'd never have any hope of riding into. Verila swooped down and landed on a branch immediately above Lucy's head. "The Stag is somewhere in the bush. It seems like he may have stopped for a rest; I haven't seen him come out the other side."

Peter dismounted and walked towards the thicket. "Then we go in after him." He turned towards his siblings, grinning breathlessly. "What say you?"

Edmund nodded and dismounted as well. "Agreed." He peered into the bushes, obviously excited. "Finer quarry I've never hunted. I'm not about to let a bush stop me now."

Giggling, Lucy hopped off of her horse and dashed into the woods. Peter and Edmund followed her, with Susan bringing up the rear.

"Look, look!" Lucy was shouting from somewhere just out of sight.

"Hush, Lu! You'll scare off the Stag!" Edmund began to scold Lucy, but he stopped when he saw what she was pointing at. "In all my life..."

Lucy knocked on the surface of the object with her fingers. "It's an iron tree!"

Peter peered up at it and pointed towards the top. "It's not a tree. Look, there's a lantern on top of it."

Susan frowned, looking up at it as well. "What a strange thing. Why would anyone put a lantern here, where the trees are so thick and high that no one would ever see it's light?"

Lucy was touching the bark of the nearby trees now, tilting her head and looking back and forth between the tree and the lantern. "I think, perhaps, that this lantern was put here when there were smaller trees, or fewer, or even none. The post is very old from the look of it, and these trees are quite young."

Edmund was squinting a the post as if there was something written on it that he couldn't quite read. "I feel as if I've seen this post before..."

"As do I," Susan agreed, "though I cannot remember where from. It's as if it's from a dream - the memory of it is always just slightly out of reach."

"It does feel strangely familiar," Peter said, stepping past it and into the thick brush beyond.

"Where are you going?" Susan asked, a note of fear in her voice.

Peter peered back at her; he was already almost completely blocked from view by the branches and leaves. "I can't help but feel as if we'll meet a change in our fortunes if we continue this way."

"I feel it as well," Lucy said, stepping into the bushes after Peter.

Edmund turned to Susan, motioning towards their siblings. "Perhaps, then, the White Stag lies just beyond that bush?"

Susan stepped tentatively into the bushes. "I feel such a sense of foreboding about this place..." She could hear Peter's laughter somewhere ahead of her, though his voice sounded strained and tight.

"Come now, Susan, when have we ever let fear stop us?"

"What's this?" Lucy asked from somewhere to Susan's left. "These trees are very soft!"

"Coats!" Edmund shouted, his voice suddenly fearful as well.

Then, all at once, the four of them fell out of the wardrobe into a pile of arms and legs on the floor. Just outside the door, Mrs. McCready was speaking to the visitors and, from the sound of the footsteps, they were walking back downstairs.

The Pevensie children looked at each other, confusion on their faces. They were children again. Back in England. In the Professor's house, not a hour from the time they'd gone into the wardrobe sixteen years ago.

There was absolute silence in the room for ten full minutes before any of them snapped out of their shocked stupor.

Edmund swallowed hard and tried to speak, but the first noise he made made him slap his hand over his mouth. He had a child's voice again!

Peter was staring openly at the back of his right hand, where a scar from a duel had always been, but was there no longer. When his eyes fell on his left hand, he let out a choked cry, bolted to his feet and ran back into the wardrobe, slamming his fists against the back wall. His wedding ring was gone.

"No! No, I have to go back! You have to let me back in! Aslan! Please!"

Lucy crawled into the wardrobe next to him and grabbed his fists, running her fingers along the cut on the edge of his left palm where he'd already begun to split the skin. "Peter, you're going to hurt yourself."

The anger drained from Peter as quickly as it had come, and the next moment, he was curled up in the back corner of the wardrobe, rocking back and forth and crying. "I left her... Oh Lucy, I left her there alone. I can't... I'm trapped here without her. Oh Lu, I want my Amelia..."

Outside the wardrobe, Susan had pulled her knees up to her chest and was crying softly as well.

Edmund was staring into his empty hands, wrestling to keep his emotions in check. He was going to have to be the strong one, the one to keep them all together. Peter was already falling apart.

"I know!" he gasped. "The Professor! He knows about Narnia!"

Susan blinked at him. "What?"

"How many adults would say that we should believe our little sister's story about a world hidden in the back of a wardrobe? None... unless they've been there themselves. We could ask him how to get back!"

Susan was staring wide-eyed at him now. "Yes, yes, he would help us! I'm sure of it! Did you hear that, Peter?"

Already, Peter was scrubbing at his eyes with his sleeve and crawling out of the closet. "Let's go talk to him."

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It was Edmund who knocked on the Professor's study door. All the children felt awkward in their own skins, like the world had changed and not them; they were still royalty on the inside, and none of them could shake the feeling that this was all wrong.

The Professor opened the door wearing his spectacles. "Can I help you children?" he asked, looking them over quite carefully.

Edmund cleared his throat. "I, um, you see, Professor, we feel like we should explain to you why there are four coats missing from the wardrobe in the spare room."

The Professor's eyes went wide for a moment and he nodded, like the last piece of a puzzle had just fallen into place. "I see. Well, do come in then."

The children walked into the room and the Professor's suspicions were confirmed. They held themselves like royalty, that much was obvious, and there was a great deal of emotion broiling inside of Peter that he was struggling very hard to keep a hold on, and Edmund was suddenly the one taking charge and leading the small family through whatever this crisis was. They situated themselves on the couch at one end of the Professor's study and Lucy began to tell the story.

"You see, Professor, we were playing hide and seek, and we discovered that the back of the wardrobe sometimes leads to a forest in a land called Narnia. We went there, and there was a terrible Ice Witch that made it winter forever but never Christmas. We had to take the coats from the wardrobe because it was so cold. We helped the talking Animals and a great many other creatures there to defeat her in a grand rebellion, and then we were crowned the Kings and Queens of Narnia. Just this morning we were out hunting a great White Stag and we accidentally came back through the portal into the spare room. And we left the coats in Narnia."

The Professor nodded solemnly, but didn't say anything, so Edmund piped up. "Er, Professor? Do you think there is any way we might be able to go back to Narnia through the wardrobe?"

The Professor shook his head. "No, I don't think it will be any good trying to go back through the wardrobe to get the coats. You won't get to Narnia again by that route. Nor would the coats be much use by now if you did!"

Next to Lucy, Peter sagged and she could feel him take her hand, gripping it tightly. He was falling apart again. "Do you think we'll ever go back?"

"Eh?" The Professor asked, turning to Lucy and pushing his glasses back up his nose. "Of course you'll go back to Narnia some day. Once a King or Queen of Narnia, always a King or Queen of Narnia. But don't go trying to use the same route twice. Indeed, don't _try_ to get there at all. It'll happen when you're not looking for it. And don't talk about it too much amongst yourselves. And don't mention it to anyone else unless they've had adventures of the same sort themselves."

Susan frowned. "How will we know that?"

The Professor smiled. "Oh, you'll know alright. Odd things they say - even their looks - will let the secret out. Keep your eyes open. Bless me, what do they teach them at these schools?"

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Peter couldn't sleep. He wasn't sure whether it was his discomfort at being child-sized again, or if he couldn't sleep without another particular person in his bed. It was probably some combination of both. Regardless, this was why he found himself wandering the house in silence at nearly 2am. He let his feet carry him, trying simply to blank out his mind so he wouldn't have to feel.

Eventually, he found himself in a room he'd never seen before. It was lavishly furnished and he suspected this was somewhere that the Professor received his guests - one of those rooms that he would be in enormous trouble from Mrs McCready for going into. He sat on the bench of the piano in the corner, brushing his fingers idly over the keys.

Note by note, a halting melody came out of the piano, interspersed with wrong notes and almost certainly with the wrong rhythm. Peter kept hammering out the same melody, over and over again, until it began to take shape; by the time the sun was coming up, it was a recognizable, if simplified, rendition of his wedding song.

He shut his eyes and realized that he had started crying some time in the night, though he wasn't sure when. Wiping his face and emotionally exhausted, he trudge out of the room and wandered up to bed, mumbling something about feeling sick when Edmund tried to wake him an hour later. He stayed there for the rest of the day.

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Peter found himself returning to the piano every night that he stayed at the Professor's house. Again and again he played the wedding song, feeling more and more like it was his last link to Narnia and to Amelia. If only he could have found out what had happened to her...

"My boy, I do believe I've heard that song enough times by now to play it by heart."

Peter nearly jumped out of his skin, turning abruptly to the door and hitting the keys with his hand, making that unpleasant sound that one gets from mashing the keys of a piano. "Professor... Er, I'm sorry, I'm not supposed to be in here..."

The Professor smiled, entering the room and shutting the door behind him. "Nonsense, dear boy, you are welcome to play the piano whenever you would like. Though I do suggest you learn more than one piece."

Peter sighed and played the first bar of the wedding song over again, making the Professor raise his eyebrows. "Or does this one have some special meaning to you?"

"It's hers," Peter answered slowly, bowing his head to hide his face, ashamed that such a simple confession could bring tears to his eyes.

The Professor nodded knowingly. "Ah, a girl. She's back home, I take it?"

Peter let out a hard laugh. "You could say that." There was a long silence; the Professor was waiting for Peter to continue and Peter didn't have anything to say. After a few minutes, however, he spoke again, "We reigned in Narnia for 16 years, you know. She... she was my Queen. I left her there." Peter stopped, trying to choke down sobs. He was surprised when he felt the Professor's hand on his shoulder.

"There is no shame in tears, my boy."

Poor Peter :( Obviously I'm getting back into the swing of things here! Sorry for not getting back to Amelia this chapter. You'll find out what was up with her next chapter, I promise, though it may not be how you would think :) By the way, I was listening to Rain by Patti Griffin when I wrote the end of this chapter. I highly recommend it!


	38. Prince Caspian

**Chapter**** 38: ****Prince ****Caspian**

Life returned to normal for the Pevensie children, though nothing was ever really the same. They went to school, but suddenly Peter could pick out the subtle tactical errors of every general they studied in history. They played with other children, but the petty squabbles of Lucy's young friends set her apart from them completely.

It happened a year later, when the four children were sitting on a bench on a train platform, ready to go back to school. A strange, magical tugging that made the train platform disappear and leaving, in its place, a forest surrounding them. Not far from where they stood was the ruin of a once-magnificent castle on a peninsula: Cair Paravel.

The night after the Pevensies found and saved Trumpkin the dwarf from being drowned by King Miraz's men, Peter joined the dwarf for the evening watch.

"You know the stories about our reign, right?" Peter asked anxiously.

Trumpkin snorted, giving Peter a queer look. "Of course I do. As any Old Narnian worth his salt would."

"I was wondering if... if there are any stories about Amelia," Peter said slowly, wringing his wrists with his hands.

Trumpkin lifted an eyebrow, confused. "Do you not know..." he began, until understanding dawned on him. "She... you mean her Majesty didn't go with you, wherever you went?"

Peter shook his head. "She was sick when we left to go hunt the White Stag."

Trumpkin looked even more confused. "Sick? She wasn't sick, she... Oh dear, you really didn't know?"

"Know what?" Peter demanded, clenching his fists.

Trumpkin took a deep breath. "Well, your Majesty, there is one story about High Queen Amelia the Faithful that you haven't heard then."

"The Faithful?"

Trumpkin smiled sadly. "She earned that name after you left, for her faith in Aslan's grand plan. The stories say that when you left on your hunt for the White Stag, the High Queen stayed behind because she was pregnant. She began immediate preparations to leave Narnia in good hands without its royalty. She placed several of your closest advisers in charge of finding a new Son of Adam or Daughter of Eve to rule over Narnia and worked hard even when she was heavy with child to see to it that Narnia would continue to flourish until a new King or Queen was crowned. The stories say that Aslan came to her after you left to tell her that he had a plan for her, but nothing else. She did everything that she did out of faith in Aslan. Then, one night, just before she was due to give birth, she disappeared. The stories said she joined you in Aslan's father's land, beyond the sea."

Peter shut his eyes, trying to contain his pain. "She was pregnant..."

"I'm sorry, your Majesty..."

"There is nothing in the world that I regret more than leaving her here alone."

Trumpkin huffed and shrugged. "The Lion has a plan for all of us. She had faith in Him. You should, too."

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The way Susan looked at Caspian was not lost on Peter. He didn't mind overly much; Caspian was an infinitely better man than Rabadash, and a good leader to boot, though Peter would probably never actually admit that.

The army gathered at Aslan's How was strong and worthy - they had more of a chance than Peter had been led to believe, even against the larger Telmarine army. There was hope yet, though, if Miraz would be willing to fight in a duel, far fewer lives would be lost.

Edmund returned from delivering the challenge with a smile. "He has accepted. He is willing to duel you for the throne of Narnia!"

Peter let out a whoop of glee, earning confused looks from everyone around him, including both Susan and Caspian, who had been making eyes at each other instead of paying any attention.

The duel was tense. Despite obvious superiority of technique, Peter was having a hard time dealing with Miraz's greater size and strength.

When Peter took a particularly nasty blow to the shoulder, Susan drew in a sharp breath and found herself squeezing Caspian's hand, much to her own surprise. She could see him looking at her out of the corner of her eye, and couldn't help but smile when his hand tightened around hers.

Despite Peter's injury, the duel was going reasonably well, until Miraz threw his weight against Peter's shield, forcing Peter off balance and down onto one knee.

"No! Peter!" Lucy cried, nearly running out on to the field, had Edmund not been there to stop her. As it was, Edmund was biting his lip so hard he drew blood.

Miraz lifted his sword, and it was clear now that he would behead Peter.

Susan let out a small cry and hid her face against Caspian's arm, but a moment later, there was a lot of cheering and when Susan looked up, Peter was on his feet and Miraz was stumbling.

"What happened?" Susan asked, shock obvious in her voice.

Caspian was about to answer when Miraz stumbled and fell face-first on the ground. The entire army went silent.

Peter took a step back, waiting, like the honourable knight that he was, for Miraz to right himself before continuing the duel. Only, Miraz never got up.

"TREACHERY!" came the shout from the Telmarine army, and all at once, they surged forward towards the shocked and tired Peter, who was standing at the halfway point between the Narnians and the Telmarines.

"Narnians! To King Peter!" Edmund barked, drawing his sword and rushing forward. They would be hard pressed to reach him before the Telmarine's did.

Much to everyone's surprise, though, Peter simple lowered himself into a fighting stance, held up his sword, and let out a roar, meeting the Telmarine army head on.

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The battle was a grand success. After a long battle, Susan and Lucy had met with Aslan not far behind the front lines, and returned with him to the battle. When the Telmarine army saw Aslan, they surrendered completely and unconditionally.

Peter lead Caspian through the throng of Animals surround the Lion and his sisters, bowing when he reached them. "This is Caspian, Sir."

Caspian bowed low, trembling with nerves. When he straightened, he ventured a glance at Susan who was trying to contain her laughter. He couldn't help but grin and suddenly everything seemed much more relaxed.

"Tell me, Prince Caspian, do you feel yourself sufficient to take up the Kingship of Narnia?" Aslan asked solemnly.

Caspian bit his lip and considered the question. "I... I don't think I do, Sir. How does one ever feel sufficient to be a King?"

Aslan let out a low, rumbling laugh. "If you had felt yourself sufficient, it would have been proof that you were not. I therefore declare you High King of Narnia."

All the dwarves and Animals and everyone who had been a part of Caspian's army began to cheer and jostle about and the result was a great deal of confusion. At some point or another, Caspian found himself with Susan in his arms, hugging him tightly and laughing.

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There was much celebrating done over the next few days, but one particular evening, Caspian found Susan standing alone just beyond the edge of the party, looking very sober.

"Is something wrong, my Queen?" he asked, coming up behind her and smiling.

Susan shook her head, and then nodded. After a moment, she sighed and said, "I suppose it's not that something _wrong_ exactly. It's just... unfair."

"What is?" Caspian asked, suddenly worried by her cryptic answer.

Susan turned to face him, smiling sadly. "I will not worry you over it. There is no sense mourning when there is so much celebrating to be done. We will worry about this later. For now, would you care to dance with me?"

The following morning, Aslan had everyone gather in front of a particularly large tree, and began to explain that those Telmarines who did not want to live in Narnia any longer were welcome to return to their original home. As he spoke, the great tree began to twist and turn, until a large portal formed in its center.

"This door will take you home, should you choose to leave," Aslan explained. "Who wishes to go? None will judge you for your choice."

A few Telmarine families began to step forward, but one of them asked, "How do we know this isn't a trick? This could lead anywhere. How do we know you're not sending us somewhere horrible."

Much to everyone's surprise, it was Peter who answered. "We will prove to you that Aslan means you no harm."

The Telmarine man sneered at him. "How are you going to do that?"

Peter smiled sadly. "We'll go through the portal first."

A ripple of surprise ran through the crowd. Even Lucy and Edmund seemed shocked by this offer. Peter turned to his younger siblings and pointed to the door. "Come on, it's time to go."

Caspian, meanwhile, had walked over to Susan. "This is what was so unfair, isn't it? Why didn't you tell me?"

Susan shook her head. "I couldn't bear to."

"But I'll see you again, won't I?" Caspian asked, his voice full of hope but his eyes betraying that he knew it was a vain hope.

"I won't be returning to Narnia," she answered quietly.

"We're not coming back?" Lucy asked, horrified.

Peter put a soothing hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, Lu. You and Edmund will be back. It's only Susan and I that can't return."

"But... why?"

"We're growing too old," Susan answered. "I suppose you'll understand, too, when your time has come." She turned to face Caspian as Peter bowed to the crowd and disappeared through the portal. "Goodbye." She turned towards the portal, but then paused for a moment. She glanced over her shoulder to see Caspian one last time and, instead of striding through the portal like she should have, turned on her heel, threw her arms around his neck and sent her lips crashing against his.

Immediately Caspian buried his fingers into her hair, holding her against him as long as he could manage until they absolutely had to part for breath.

There were tears rolling down Susan's cheeks. "Goodbye." And with that, she fled through the portal after Peter.

Every summer after that, until Peter finished secondary school, the Pevensie children spent their time at the Professor's house. It was the highlight of the year for all of them, or so Peter thought. He was upset that this summer would be his last - the idea that one of his siblings might not want to go seemed very strange to him.

"But I don't want to go!" Susan exclaimed from the hallway. Peter, who was packing in his room, looked up at the door, listening intently.

"Why not?" her mother asked, exasperated.

"Because! It's old and boring and there's nothing to do. I'd much rather stay in London," Susan answered.

Her mother sighed. "Well, it's too late for that now, dear, but maybe next summer, alright?"

Susan didn't reply. She chose instead to sulk in silence. Her mother rolled her eyes and headed downstairs.

Peter came out into the hallway. "Susan? Why don't you want to go to the Professor's house?"

Susan glowered at him. "Like I said, it's old and boring." When Peter raised an eyebrow in clear disbelief, Susan sighed. "Everything there reminds me of Narnia. I hate it."

"What?" Peter asked, shocked. "Why? It's the only connection we have left."

"I don't want a connection. We can't go back, so what's the use of dwelling on it? I want to forget him and move on," Susan replied, crossing her arms.

"Him," Peter repeated. "You're upset about Caspian."

Susan scowled. "I am not."

Peter frowned. He didn't understand how Susan could still be so attached to him. "Why? It's been so long since you last saw him."

Susan glared at him. "Don't be so hypocritical. It's been even longer since you last saw Amelia, and you have yet to even look at another girl." The acid in her voice when she said Amelia's name was all it took to get Peter angry.

"It's completely different," he growled. "She was my wife for seven years. You didn't even know Caspian for a week."

Susan lifted her head, tears shining in her eyes. "A week was all it took for me to fall in love with him."

Peter threw his hands into the air. "You're being ridiculous!" he exclaimed. "You don't even know if he ever felt the same about you!"

Susan tightened her jaw, furious. "We kissed," she answered stubbornly.

"You kissed him," Peter corrected. "And a kiss doesn't mean anything."

Susan gasped, her whole body tensing with anger. _A __kiss __doesn__'__t __mean __anything__? __That__ kiss __meant __everything_. "Just because you were a slut when you were king doesn't mean that Caspian has to follow in your footsteps!" she cried, retreating into her room and slamming the door.

Peter stared at the door in shock for a long time before he turned and stormed down the stairs.

Lucy was standing at the bottom, looking sad. "Peter?" she asked, her voice laced with worry.

Peter ignored her and pushed past her into the kitchen, slamming the door behind him as he left the house.

Upstairs, Susan sat on her window sill, the tears streaming down her cheeks. She watched as Peter stalked down the sidewalk into the gathering gloom, and swore to herself that she would never speak of Narnia or Caspian again. As far as she was concerned, they were dead.

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...And that, for those of you who have read the Last Battle, is why Susan wasn't there. What a downer chapter. Ah well! More soon!


	39. The Ring

**Chapter**** 39 - The Ring  
**

The fight marked the beginning of the end of Peter and Susan's close relationship. Susan grew apart from all of her siblings after that, but she seemed to hold a grudge against Peter in particular. By the time she graduated secondary school, she didn't even remember why she hated him so; she had convinced herself that Narnia was but a children's game, and that Caspian was nothing by the prince charming all little girls fantasize about. None of it was real.

Meanwhile, Peter started university, attending school for Economics, and found to his dismay that every woman he met seemed to be reduced to giggling school girls in his presence and never left him in peace.

"I don't understand it, Lu," he complained one Christmas break. "Why am I so interesting?"

Lucy laughed. "You carry yourself like a King, Peter. Of course they're interested in you." She looked pointedly at two boys who looked about Peter's age staring openly at the group of girls who were, in turn, giggling over Peter. "Look at the competition."

Peter couldn't help but laugh and tried to ignore the chorus of sighs it earned. "That's not very nice, Lucy."

Lucy shrugged. "Am I not allowed to think highly of my brother?"

"Sure, Lu, but you're not exactly helping me out, here."

Lucy tapped her chin and then latched herself onto Peter's arm, earning some glares from a few of the girls. "Tell them you have a girlfriend."

"You have a girlfriend?" Peter's mother asked, appearing at the most inopportune time directly behind them on the train platform.

Peter shot Lucy a _now __look __what __you__'__ve __done_ look and turned to face his mother. "No, I don't. Lucy was just giving me some ideas for something."

"For what?" his mother asked, looking confused as she picked up some of Lucy's luggage and lead them out of the station.

Lucy chuckled. "For getting the girls at school to leave him alone."

Their mother shot Peter a sharp look. "Why would you want that? You have never yet brought a girl home to meet us. I'm beginning to worry about you, Peter."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I just don't need a girl to distract me from my studies."

His mother gave him a reproachful look. "Alright, so long as that's all that it is."

"When's Edmund getting in?" Lucy chirped, deciding it was time to change the subject. Their mother pestered Peter often about his lack of girlfriend, and while Edmund and Lucy knew exactly why he hadn't found one yet, his mother only thought that perhaps his interests lay elsewhere, and it was a thought she greatly disliked.

"Oh, not until tomorrow, I'm afraid. We have so much to do to get ready for Christmas!"

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Peter never followed through on Lucy's advice, feeling like it could get him into more trouble than it was worth. Instead, he simply endured.

Tradition at most schools dictates that the end of a school year is marked with drinking and debauchery, and so, in accordance with expectation, Peter went to a classmate's house where there was promised good times, many girls and some all around fun.

Peter was not having fun. He'd lost count of his drinks after the 6th, and now he was sitting in a chair in the corner and he wasn't completely sure he'd be able to stand again. He was dreading going home, knowing his mother would be on him again for the entire summer about finding a girlfriend. Apparently he was at an age where he was expected to start thinking about settling down and finding a wife. _But__I__already__have__a__wife__. __I__don__'__t__want__another__, _he thought, downing the remainder of the glass in his hand.

"Peter!" A dark haired man stumbled up to him, grinning from ear to ear. "Howzit goin, mate?"

Peter grinned back up at him. "Hey, Luke." Company was nice. Luke was an outgoing classmate of his - he would be living in a large house with Luke and a few other men from his program next year.

"There's someone I wantchu to meet!" Luke announced, pulling a petite blonde girl out of the crowd. "Thisiz Lizzie."

Lizzie looked Peter up and down once, blushed and leaned over him, bringing her face much too close for comfort. "Hi."

Peter pressed himself back into his chair. "Hi."

Lizzie smiled in what she must have thought was a seductive manner and pulled not-so-subtly at her shirt so that her cleavage popped out. "What's your name?"

Peter blinked blankly at her, wondering how to show complete disinterest without being rude. "Peter." One word answers was a good start.

Lizzie didn't seem to get the hint. "It's a _pleasure_ to meet you, Peter," she purred, sitting down on the arm of the chair.

Peter sighed. It was going to be a long night.

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Too much alcohol. Far, FAR too much. Some time during the night, Peter had learned that Lizzie was from Liverpool and she was here visiting her friends, and that she was staying just upstairs during her time in London. She insisted that she wanted to show something to him in her room, though Peter couldn't remember what it was or how she'd managed to convince him to come with her to see it.

Regardless, he now found himself lying on his back on her bed with her straddling his hips.

"Uh, Lizzie... I uh..."

She leaned over him again, pulling off her shirt and kissing him messily. Something in Peter's foggy brain was telling him that he didn't want this, but all of his thoughts were too tangled to figure out what to do about it. A larger part of him recognized the feeling of a warm touch and gave in completely craving the contact he missed so dearly.

In the end, Lizzie got her way, and soon, both of them were naked, Peter on top of her, moving in unison. He could feel her peaking, and he went soon after, retreating into the white fire, and he knew why all of this was so wrong. She wasn't Amelia. He couldn't see her, feel her, hear her in the moment as he went crashing over the edge, not like he could with Amelia. Everything about this was wrong, and suddenly he felt sick and filthy, and he rolled out of bed, trying his damnedest to ignore the way the room spun. He had to give his head a shake in order to even see, and he growled, wanting nothing more than to be gone. As he tugged on his pants, Lizzie's voice reminded him that he wasn't actually alone in the room.

"What are you doing?"

"Leaving," Peter answered gruffly, pulling his shirt on over his head and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Lizzie sat up and scowled at the closed door, fixing the twisted blankets. "Fine then. You weren't that good anyway."

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Peter stood in the shower for nearly an hour when he got back, turning the water up as hot as it would go, as if he could scald away any remnants of Lizzie on his skin. He wished he could forget everything about that night, but he couldn't get it out of his head. The longer he thought about it, the more disgusted he grew.

When the hot water ran out, he turned off the shower and toweled himself off, seriously considering entering the clergy. At least it would give him an excuse to avoid women.

He was developing a serious hatred of himself that he really hoped would be lessened by morning. He would never be able to face his family in this state. Walked down the hall to his room, he was surprised to find a small package sitting on his bed. The note on top of it was written in precise handwriting that he didn't recognized.

_Master __Pevensie__,_

_I __am __writing __to __you __on __behalf __of __your __great __aunt __twice __removed__, __Margret __O__'__Donnell__. __She __has __recently __passed __away __and __has __left __you __the __enclosed __in __her __will__. __Have __a __pleasant __day__._

_Sincerely__,_

_Gregory __Cook__, __Solicitor__._

Peter picked up the package, scratching the back of his head. He hadn't even know that he _had_ a Great Aunt Margret. Why on Earth was she leaving him something in her will? He tore open the nondescript brown paper packaging to find a well-padded, small blue box inside. When he opened it, he nearly collapsed onto his bed. It was, without question, an exact replica of Amelia's engagement ring. He sat in silence, staring at it for who-knows-how-long. He expected it to make him feel worse about what had happened that night but, for some reason, all it did was bring him peace. It was the reminder that he needed: out there somewhere, he had a beautiful, intelligent, strong and wonderful woman who loved him dearly. She was his wife, and he would not have any other. He would wait until his dying day for her if he had to, but he belonged to her and her only.

He rummaged through the drawer on his bedside table for a while before he found the small silver chain that he was looking for. Slipping the ring onto the chain, he clasped it around his neck, holding it in his hand for a moment. Sighing deeply, he sat back down on his bed and, within minutes, passed out completely.

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Aww yeah, two chapters in one day! I swear I'm actually going to finish this story. I will, I will, I will! Plus it's almost done, which makes things easier :) So here's hoping that I'll get another chapter out sooooon!


	40. Reunion

**Chapter**** 40 - ****Reunion**

Christmas break of Peter's third year found him wading his way through a snowstorm. He'd left his apartment for one last walk through the neighbourhood before heading home for the holidays when the snow storm had started, catching him by surprise. The snow was too thick to even see through and he didn't even have a proper winter coat to wear - it was rare to see any snow on Christmas, never mind this kind of weather. Peter slogged tiredly through drifts, barely even able to determine if he was on the sidewalk or not. It was impossible to see anything more than a few feet in front of him, and more than once, he nearly walked into a post or wall. His fingers were numb and the wind stung against his face, so when he saw the warm glow of a porch light, he headed towards it immediately. Though he couldn't see the face of the structure, the looming shadow of the building told him it was a civic building of some kind, and therefore a safe bet for shelter until the blizzard passed.

It took a great deal of effort to tug open the door against the wind, but his effort was rewarded with a warm blast of air when he finally pulled the big wooden door open. He slipped inside, letting the wind slam the door shut behind him, and looked around.

He very nearly turned around at walked back out, thinking the foyer he stood in now belonged to a small, poor family rather than the civic building he had thought it was, except for the small blackboard hanging from the wall, listing hymn numbers in neat handwriting and a small arrow pointing further into the building labelled "chapel this way".

Peter ran a hand through his hair, shaking off the snow that had gathered there and on his shoulders, and started into the church. It was clean but shabby: well-loved, but with a poor congregation. The hallway was decorated in the things one might expect to see: psalms, pictures of Jesus, disciples and angels, and holly, mistletoe and evergreen wreaths at even intervals along the passage. He reached a fork with another small sign indicating the direction to the chapel. Since that would be the direction where he would be most likely to find people, he decided to go the other way in hopes of finding a warm, quiet corner where he could be alone until the storm passed. He didn't wish to deal with people at the moment.

This hallway got darker quite quickly, and the decor became more sparse. Peter noticed a door slightly ajar at the end of the hallway, with flickering light coming from the inside. Perfect, if it was empty. He ventured down the hall and pushed the door the rest of the way open, smiling. It was a small room, but cozy and warm, with a fireplace in one corner, a piano in the other, and a small, unmade cot resting against one wall. There was a half-empty bookshelf next to the piano - most of the books seemed to be stacked on the bedside table and on the floor next to the bed. He wondered idly if this room belonged to the minister, but if he wasn't there already, he probably wouldn't be coming back tonight, certainly not given the weather, so he walked into the room and pulled off his coat.

It wasn't until he turned to close the door that he saw the painting. It was a beautiful landscape - a castle on the beach, surrounded by lush green forest. The contents of the painting weren't particularly unusual, but Peter had seen this scene before; without a shadow of a doubt, it was a painting of Cair Paravel.

"Unbelievable," Peter murmured, reaching a hand out towards it. He jerked his hand back and gave his head a shake, trying to come up with some logical explanation. Cair Paravel might have been based off of an old castle from Earth - it was, after all, built by King Frank and Queen Helen, who were a Son and Daughter of Adam and Eve as well. Or, equally likely, one of the many Telmarines who had returned to Earth ended up making their living as a painter. It was even possible that this was simply a coincidence. A very uncanny coincidence.

Shaking his head again, Peter turned and placed his coat on the piano bench, sitting down next to it and running his fingers over the ivory keys. His eyes kept flickering back to the painting, but he ignored it dutifully, instead focusing on the piano. He pressed down a few of the keys experimentally, and then let his hands play the first song that came to mind. It was her song, of course. It couldn't be anything else, not in a room with a painting of Cair Paravel.

It had been some time since Peter had been at a piano, so he played through the piece a few times, clumsily, before he began to feel more natural. It was comforting, playing this song again - his last connection to her. By the time he was on his fourth play-through, he had given himself to the music entirely, blocking out all other distractions. He even had his eyes closed and he could, in his mind, hear the other instruments joining the piano in the original orchestral composition. In his mind's eye, he could see the day of the wedding, dancing through the grand hall with Amelia. He remembered how it made him smile when she began to hum along with the melody while they danced. It was almost as if he could hear it.

The door clicking open and the small gasp startled him so badly that his hands missed their proper keys and that terrible sound of discord one makes by mashing piano keys came out, marring the piece. His eyes snapped open and he blinked several times in surprise, unable to believe what he was seeing.

The woman standing in front of him was of average height. She looked about his age, or perhaps a few years younger. She was dressed in overalls and a plaid workman's shirt, green paint splattered across both articles of clothing as well as her hands and face. Her curly red hair was held back with a ribbon and a sprig of holly was tucked behind her ear, giving the outfit a slightly festive appearance. Green eyes were wide and staring at him on a face with delicate features and sprinkled with freckles. She had fewer freckles than he remembered. Her lips were parted in surprise and they moved slightly, as if attempting to form words that refused to come out. She held a paint can in one hand and a cup full of freshly cleaned paintbrushes in the other. He realized belatedly that she had been humming along to the melody of the piece in the hallway as she approached, he hadn't been imagining it. There was no doubt then.

Amelia stood on the doorway, with one foot in the room and one foot still in the hall, wondering if this was why her professor had warned her against painting in a room without proper airflow. She had to be hallucinating, but that wasn't right - surely the chapel was large enough to have air circulation, even with all the windows closed. And he looked so very real... She jumped a little when felt felt a sudden splatter of cold paint on her hand and, looking down at herself, she realized that she'd begun trembling violently. With slow, deliberate movements, she placed the paint can and brushes on the table beside the door, keeping her eyes glued to the can. She was sure that when she looked up again he would be gone. It had to be a figment of her imagination. Yet, when she looked back at the piano, there was still a pair of slate blue eyes staring back at her, the same shock she was feeling written plainly on his face.

"Peter...?" she asked, her voice coming out as a whisper. This couldn't be real. Oh, how she wanted it, but she feared losing it even more. If this was a dream, she wanted never to wake again.

Peter regained the use of his limbs so suddenly that he shot to his feet at the sound of his name, nearly knocking over the piano bench in the process. He started to come around the piano while she lifted her hands to her face, pressing several of her fingers to her lips. It looked like she was struggling against biting her fingernails. It was a new nervous tick, something she hadn't had in Narnia. It struck him that she might be an entirely different person now, and yet something about the way she held herself, the way she looked at him, made him believe that she was very much the same. She had the same fire in her eyes, the same inquisitive tilt to her head, even despite the apprehension masking both.

She tilted her face downwards but kept her gaze fixed on his, so that she looked up at him through her eyelashes. "Do you... remember me?" she asked, her voice still whispery.

Peter gaped at her, unsure of how to respond. He couldn't imagine how he could possibly have forgotten her. It seemed insane. He crossed the remaining distance between them in two long strides, enveloping her entirely in his arms and crushing her against his chest. It took all the willpower he had to remain gentle enough to avoid hurting her. "My Amelia, my angel."

He could remember once, on a night that felt like a lifetime ago, their first reunion after her internal struggle with her miscarriage. He remembered how it felt to hold her again. He had thought he would never feel the like again. He knew now that he had been mistaken; that night was nothing compared to what he felt now. It was as if some part of him had been removed and was now returned to its rightful place. It is strange to consider the sensation of relief as painful, but at such an extreme, that's exactly what it was. Peter's heart felt like it was twisting out of his chest and he had to clench his jaw to keep from whimpering at the pain of it. Without letting her go, he sat down on the cot, pulling her into his lap. They stayed that way for a long time, simply clinging to each other, neither quite able to believe that they were really together.

With her head tucked under Peter's chin, Amelia buried her nose into his shirt, inhaling deeply. He smelled differently, on the surface. He lacked that metallic smell that came off his armor and never really went away, and the smell of the cologne he had favoured in Narnia, and the smell of the rose-oil baths she had always ended up dragging him into in the morning. He wore a different cologne now, and she could tell it had been more than a day since he had last put it on, and his clothes bore the smell of baked goods and of books and wood-polish, like a library. But underneath all that, there was that particular smell that's unique to each person, and that was _exactly_ the same. It was strange how much that reassured her that he was, at his core, the same man she knew and loved.

"Peter?"

He shifted slightly when he responded. "Hm?"

She lifted her head but was so loathe to move away from him that she brought her face up mere inches from his. Whatever she was going to say was lost when Peter slid one of his hands over the back of her neck and drew her towards him, kissing her softly. She responded immediately and eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck. She tried to shift so that she could sit straddling his legs, but because she refused to stop kissing him in order to do so, all she ended up doing was knocking them both over backwards onto the cot.

They parted for breath a moment later and Amelia, who was lying half on top of Peter, pushed herself up on her elbows and looked down at him. He had his eyes closed and his lips parted and, if the way he was breathing was any indication, he was relaxed enough to fall asleep then and there. The fingers of her right hand began to trace the line of his jaw, rough with stubble that made her think he hadn't bothered to shave this morning. For some reason, the feel of it calmed the fear that had settled into her stomach that all of this was some kind of dream, perhaps because small flaws don't often show up in such dreams. She smiled, tears welling up in her eyes as she hovered over him, content to simply watch him breathe.

Peter opened his eyes slowly, letting Amelia's face come into focus, and he smiled. There were tear tracks on her cheeks that hadn't been there before but that didn't come as a particular surprise. He wouldn't have been surprised if he started crying any moment either. He reached up and wiped the tracks away with his thumbs, earning a quiet giggle from Amelia.

"I've missed you," he said, wondering if he could possibly made a bigger understatement. He refused to question whether she was real; some irrational part of him felt that if he didn't doubt it out loud, reality might forget that this was practically impossible and wouldn't take it away.

She smiled in response and crossed her arms over his chest, leaning closer to him until their noses were nearly touching. "I've thought of you every day since I returned. Every day."

"It wasn't my decision to leave you, you have to know that," Peter said, gripping her hips with his hands. "Please forgive me. There hasn't been a day that I haven't regretted following the lamp post. I wouldn't have gone, had I known..." His voice died when Amelia touched his lips with one of her fingers.

"I know, love. You were taken home by the Lion himself and there was nothing you could have done to prevent it. Nor should you have. Aslan's plans are greater than our own." She removed her finger and planted chaste kiss on his lips, and then smiled at him.

Peter laced his fingers with hers. "You truly are the Faithful."

She grinned in response and let her face fall closer to his again. She kissed him slowly and soundly.

Peter groaned as she gave his shirt a sharp tug and slipped her fingertips underneath the hem, trailing them across his stomach. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he held her to him as he rolled over on top of her. His mouth moved from her lips to her neck, urged on by the small moaning sounds she started making.

Amelia ran her hands up his back and over his shoulders to cup his face, guiding his lips back to hers. He kissed her fiercely and then, with a long sigh, let part of his weight collapse on top of her, holding his upper body up by propping himself up on one elbow. His other hand found hers and he laced their fingers together.

Peter sighed again when he saw the look of worry on Amelia's face.

"Is everything alright, love?" she asked, her voice gentle but urgent. She didn't understand why he stopped.

"Yes, I just... I don't think this is a good idea," he answered. He knew where things would go if they continued carrying on the way they were, and he suspected she did too.

Amelia held her breath for a moment, trying to hide the look of rejection she knew was crossing her face. "Do you not want to...?"

Peter buried his face into her shoulder, groaning loudly. "Of course I do, it's just that, well, we're in a church..." He could feel Amelia's sigh rustling his hair, and he could feel her shifting underneath him into a more comfortable position. She lifted her free hand and began to rake her fingers through his hair.

"As much as I hate to admit it, you do have a point."

The couple stayed tangled on the bed together for a long time, each content to simply revel in the presence of the other and think their own thoughts.

After some unknown amount of time that neither of them could or cared to track, Peter lifted his head, planted a kiss on Amelia's cheek and, with a mischievous grin, asked, "Would you be willing to join me in my apartment for the evening, my love?"

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Yaaaaaaaaay! I had planned on writing more about Peter by himself but then I realized I didn't want to keep them apart any longer... So yeah, next up, more about their reunion and Amelia gets to see the other Pevensies :)


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